


The Mind is a Terrible Thing

by McEuropeskies



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Crying, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Recall, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt (past), Therapy, Touch-Starved Hanzo Shimada, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2020-06-09 23:52:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 72,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19486537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McEuropeskies/pseuds/McEuropeskies
Summary: After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.





	1. Idols and Investments

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. Felt like deleting all my other fics to post a brand new one (and on mobile yeehaw). Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster or something

_When he was six, Hanzo remembered his father telling him two things: “you will show no weaknesses” and “you are not a child; you are an investment.”_

_The lecture came after Genji’s third birthday. With every new gift his little brother was given, Hanzo’s face turned a darker shade of red. He sat beside Genji on the cool, clean floor as his brother viciously unwrapped gift after gift. New shoes, sweets, and clothes. Genji ignored all of these in favor of the toys and action figures with impossibly large weapons._

_The elders endlessly fawned over the smaller brother, ruffling his shaggy hair and encouraging more giggles. Hanzo watched them smile down at Genji like they were awing over a small puppy. Hanzo’s mother sat on the other side of Genji, gently helping his small, chubby hands unwrap the gifts. She swiped stray hair to the side of her youngest son’s head and ran her fingers up and down his back. Hanzo moved a strand of his own long, black hair to the center of his face so that it was tickling his nose. He hoped his mother would notice and lovingly push it behind his ear as she’d done with Genji._

_His brother was unwrapping his final gift, the box covered in a lime green paper. It resembled a shoe box, leading Hanzo to guess that it was more footwear – perhaps sneakers this time. The wrapping paper drifted to the floor as Genji threw it aside. The younger brother let out a small gasp as he clutched a box containing yet another action figure. This one, though, made Hanzo’s stomach churn. The action figure wore a brown hat and long, black boots with spurs. There was a whip at his side as well, and Hanzo immediately recognized the character. He was Callaway, a cowboy from a cartoon who could beat any bad guy with only his whip and his quick wits – it was Hanzo’s favorite show._

_Hanzo suddenly sprang up, drawing the attention of a few elders. “He doesn’t even know who that is!” Hanzo shouted, hearing his voice crack. He hadn’t noticed that he’d started crying. The tears flowed down his cheeks and dripped from his chin like a leaky faucet – Hanzo couldn’t stop it. His brother stopped trying to claw the action figure’s box open to gawk at his brother. “He doesn’t even watch that show!”_

_In an instant, Hanzo’s father was dragging him from the room with a hand around his slender wrist. He was pulled into a hallway, and his father closed the door behind them. A sudden strike to the cheek snapped Hanzo’s head to the side, and the small boy stumbled to stay upright._

_“What were you thinking?” his father demanded. “Why are you acting out like this? This is not how an heir should behave.”_

_Hanzo clutched his cheek and refused to meet Sojiro’s eyes, staring at the small, wooden tiles that made up the floor instead. “Why don’t I get toys like Genji?” he asked. “I want to play with him. It…it isn’t fair.”_

_Hanzo’s chin was forced up, making him meet his father’s intense eyes. The eyes glared down at him with such anger that Hanzo began to feel disgusted and embarrassed by his outburst. “You will show no weaknesses,” Sojiro spat, as if saying so could give Hanzo the ability to suck the tears back into his eyes and lock them away forever. He settled for quickly wiping them from his cheeks instead._

_“You are not a child,” Sojiro continued. “You are an investment.”_

_At his young age, Hanzo didn’t quite understand what his father meant by the words, but they made his heart ache nonetheless. He felt like Genji’s wrapping paper, made to look proper and then tossed aside when its purpose had been served._

_Hanzo’s hair covered his eyes as he looked down, and he forced himself to wipe it away._

* * *

The Gibraltar sun was hot enough to burn Hanzo to a crisp in the summers, but he practiced outside daily at the training range nonetheless. When he was there, the range was normally empty save for agents D.va and Lucio on occasion. Hanzo was unsure if it was due to the blaring heat or every other agents’ undying hatred for the elder Shimada.

He’d been at the Watchpoint for about three months now, but everyday felt just like his first day. Hanzo wandered the halls, feeling largely out of place among the family of agents. He ate only when he heard nobody else in the dining area, which was either early in the morning or late at night. During those times, he scavenged for leftovers or sometimes cooked up some rice if he had the energy. Hanzo tried to get as much protein as he could but still found himself lightheaded and losing weight. It showed most in his face – his eyes become sunken and bones more prominent. His hair felt slightly thinner as well.

None of this was healthy – Hanzo knew it. He just couldn’t find it in himself to give up his bad habits. Drinking himself to sleep, smoking when he woke up, then training endlessly – it was a surprise he had it in him to still get out of bed in the mornings. If not for reminding himself that this was all for Genji, then Hanzo could not guess where his motivation would stem from. Perhaps he would already be dead.

Thinking of Genji and the man’s scarred face and cybernetic limbs made Hanzo scowl. How could he even consider the notion that death would be a sufficient punishment for his actions? He had caused his brother endless suffering – now he must atone for it by serving in Overwatch and carrying out Genji’s wishes. He didn’t know what purpose his presence was serving within the organization – he had yet to go on any missions, and his offers to clean up around the Watchpoint were turned down by the large ape who was said to be in charge – but it wasn’t Hanzo’s place to ask. This was his new duty.

Hanzo notched an arrow and let it fly, downing what seemed like the hundredth training bot. The sweat poured down his back and forehead as he reached for another arrow, only to find his quiver empty. The archer mentally scolded himself for not keeping better track of his ammunition, and he walked off to collect his arrows. A voice with a strong Southern drawl stopped him in his place.

“You ever gonna let anyone else have a turn out here?”

Hanzo turned to find McCree, dressed in his full cowboy gear save the wool serape, and he wondered how the man had yet to faint from heat exhaustion. “If you’d like to train, I’m not stopping you,” Hanzo replied.

The cowboy scoffed. “If you haven’t noticed yet, nobody wants to be around you. You’re scarin’ everyone away.

Hanzo saw the truth in this but had figured that nobody would want to train in the heat. He sighed and continued walking to retrieve his arrows, feeling McCree’s eyes on him all the while. After collecting the last arrow, he turned to leave, nodding at McCree as he did. “It is all yours.”

“About time,” McCree spat and whirled out his Peacekeeper, not paying Hanzo another glance.

Hanzo meant to leave, but he found himself stuck in the doorway like a statue, mesmerized by McCree’s actions. The cowboy rolled left and right, shooting bots down and keeping his hat firm on his head throughout. The jingle of McCree’s spurs could be heard faintly amidst the gunfire. McCree reloaded his gun as fast as lightning and immediately went back to shooting, the sweat already soaking his face and clothing. He reminded Hanzo of the heroes from his childhood television shows, valiant and strong.

Hanzo remembered wanting to grow up to be like McCree – always protecting others and serving justice. It almost made him laugh, seeing that he turned out the exact opposite. _Monster_ , Hanzo’s mind chanted, taunting him as McCree continued his training.

Soon enough, Ana showed up to train as well. She passed Hanzo in the doorway and went to stand beside McCree, rifle in hand. With a hand on his shoulder, Ana leaned in to whisper something in the cowboy’s ear. Hanzo huffed at the distraction.

McCree quickly spun around to face Hanzo as Ana pulled away. The Shimada flinched at the sudden eye contact. McCree looked him up and down before meeting his eyes once more.

“Can I help you?” McCree asked with a scowl.

Without a word, Hanzo turned and walked away, leaving the training range behind him.


	2. Light as a Cloud, Heavy as a Boulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in this chapter for: neglect, non-graphic violence, non-graphic amputation, and bad coping-mechanisms.
> 
> Thank you all for your wonderful comments. Sorry for all of the sad, but it’ll get better (albeit slowly...). I’ll continue to add tags as they come up!

_When he was eight, Hanzo was kidnapped by a rival clan. He had been with his family at a well-decorated restaurant. The white marble floors, white walls, and white fountain in the center of the brightly-lit building made Hanzo feel like he was eating on a cloud. He downed his soup and wandered off to the bathroom when he was grabbed, a hand over his mouth to drown out his surprised yells. There was the pinch of a needle in his arm, and he was shoved into a large duffle bag before he faded into unconsciousness._

_He did not remember anything that happened when he was with his kidnappers – he just knew that when he returned it was without his legs, and he had lost his will to speak. It was meant as a warning. A threat to the Shimadas that said if they continued expanding beyond Hanamura, there would be trouble. The perpetrators were dead within the week, but the damage to Hanzo’s body was irreversible._

_He also remembered the pain. Even with the many pills, the pain was endless. It kept Hanzo awake at night, clutching at the stumps where his legs used to be. When he stared at white walls, catatonic and imagining floating through the clouds, his pain brought him back._

_“He’s still growing!” he heard his father shouting at a jumpy man in a lab coat. “We’ll have to buy new prosthetics every time he hits a fucking growth spurt! Tell me again how much you want to charge me, and this time make it a reasonable price.”_

_Hanzo watched the man sputter and look at something on his clipboard. He had a feeling that somebody was going to get hurt or maybe even killed, so Hanzo gripped the wheels of his wheelchair and propelled himself away from the scene. The yelling became more distant with every push forward, and for that Hanzo was thankful. The guards had been instructed by his father not to assist the young Shimada heir with his comings and goings in the hopes that Hanzo would build up the muscle in his arms. But, even though it became easier to push every day, Hanzo’s chair seemed to weigh as much as he did. He avoided inclines within the Shimada castle and occasionally got stuck in doorways, but Hanzo eventually got where he needed to be._

_Soon enough, the angry voice of his father was replaced by a much softer voice. Hanzo wheeled down the hall and found himself looking at the backs of his mother and Genji as they sat on a carpeted floor and enacted a fake scene with the younger Shimada’s toys. Hanzo watched from the doorway as Genji waved his arms around, laughing and pretending to make his stuffed dragon battle the similar stuffed dragon held by his mother._

_Hanzo silently wheeled closer until he was right at their backs. His mother turned as he approached. Her eyes looked pained and the dark bags underneath made her appear much older than she was. Hanzo wondered if it was because of him._

_“Hello Hanzo,” his mother said with a soft smile. At the sound of his brother’s name, Genji turned and stared. Hanzo found himself clambering down from his wheelchair to sit next to the other two. He inched closer and reached for Genji’s stuffed dragon._

_Genji yanked the dragon out of Hanzo’s reach. Hanzo turned his focus to the dragon that his mother was holding and reached for it next. Genji’s hand found Hanzo’s wrist and tugged. “That’s mom’s dragon,” he explained. Hanzo reached for it once more and Genji tugged harder._

_“Honey, be nice to your brother,” his mother scolded, and Genji let out a soft hmph._

_“He only tries to take my things!” Genji said, clutching his dragon closer to his chest._

_“I want to play,” Hanzo said, his voice croaky and barely above a whisper. It had been weeks since he had said anything._

_“Oh, Hanzo,” his mother whispered, her eyes downcast. She set aside the stuffed toy and lifted Hanzo into her arms. Hanzo gasped and held her close, wrapping around her like a baby animal. She tried to set him in his chair, but Hanzo refused to let go._

_“Hanzo, please,” she said gently. Hanzo buried his face into the crook of her neck. She smelled like peppermint lotion, and her skin was soft against his forehead. He couldn’t remember ever being so close to her._

_“Hanzo, if you let go I’ll take you for a walk,” she tried. Hanzo considered the offer, thinking that it would be rather nice to give his arms a break. He let go of his mother, slumping back down into the black rubber of his chair. Curling up into the seat, Hanzo looked up at his mother expectantly._

_“Genji, play on your own for a little bit, alright?” she said. “Mommy wants to talk with your brother.”_

_Genji furrowed his eyebrows and reached for his stuffed dragons again, resuming the dramatic scene on his own. Hanzo’s mother turned back to her older son and gripped the handles of his chair. She began pushing him out of the room and down the hall, the soft sound of rubber wheels on hardwood soothing Hanzo._

_“How have you been feeling Hanzo? Any pain still?”_

_“Fine,” Hanzo whispered. He stared straight ahead, wondering where his mother would take him and how long their walk would last. He did not want it to end._

_Suddenly, at the sound of footsteps, Hanzo’s mother was turning right and rushing down a different corridor. “We’re going to get you some new legs, you know? Some really cool ones. Won’t that be great?”_

_Hanzo looked down at his stumps, wishing he had a blanket to cover them with. The areas where his calves ended made him want to gag. “Expensive,” he said._

_Hanzo’s mother took a moment to reply. “No, they won’t be too expensive. Don’t worry about that.”_

_Hanzo relized that she was directing him towards his bedroom. Now that he thought about it, his eyes were feeling rather heavy. And he would finally be able to cover up his legs. Hanzo’s mother made her way to his bedroom and opened the door._

_It was a plain room. There was a bed, and closet, and a small bookshelf in the corner beside his window. The only splash of color among the bare walls and ceiling was Hanzo’s blue silk bedspread. For an eight-year-old,he had a large bed. When resting, he felt engulfed by a sea of cushions. He could toss and turn all night without even ever coming close the an edge of the gargantuan bed._

_Hanzo’s mother was picking him up once more and setting his head gently in the center of his pillows. “I know there are many things that seem confusing to you now, Hanzo,” she began. “Just know that...the things that we do...”_

_Hanzo waited patiently for her to continue. He saw that his mother’s eyes were wet and glittering. “The things we do are for the best.” She pulled his covers to his chin. “Get some rest. I know your medicine makes you tired.”_

_She turned to leave, and Hanzo’s eyes went wide. “Wait!” he yelled, his throat becoming sore after the strain. Hanzo’s mother paused with her back to him. “Will you read to me?”_

_Hanzo heard her sniffle. “No,” she said, her voice cracking. She walked out of his room without another word._

* * *

Hanzo had not eaten a real meal for three days. He’d gone without sleep for even longer. His thoughts and mistakes kept him up at night, haunting his mind until his eyes were glued open with shame. Everyday he wondered what he was doing here in Gibraltar, here in Overwatch. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to walk to get food without the risk of running into someone, someone who knew what he has done.

The sound of his gurgling stomach finally pushed the elder Shimda out of bed. His hunger was annoyingly overwhelming. He took a moment, waiting until his dizziness and the black spots clouding his vision subsided, before exiting his quarters. As he made his way to the dining area, Hanzo felt lucky that nobody seemed to be out and about. He wondered where they all were — perhaps on a mission.

Without wasting a moment, Hanzo pushed through the door to the dining area and was taken aback by the blurred faces of the other agents now directed at him. In his haze, Hanzo realized that he forgot it was the typical lunchtime for the agents.

Ignoring their stares and whispers, Hanzo made his way to the buffet counter. Chicken, rice, and vegetables. Hanzo felt like he could eat every last bite of it all. Before he could grab a plate, he felt a cool, metal hand on his shoulder.

“Brother, we’re glad you could finally make it to dine with us,” the cybernetic voice of Genji said. Hanzo glanced at the cyborg’s visor plate, barely able to make out the details. Genji’s voice sounded hundreds if miles away despite his close proximity.

“I...the food...” Hanzo mumbled, his tongue heavy in his mouth. Hanzo was suddenly feeling incredibly light-headed. He needed to sit down.

“Are you well, Hanzo?” he heard Genji ask. Hanzo stumbled to one of the benches by a dining table and felt himself fall forward into strong arms. They were muscled and soft, and Hanzo felt himself nuzzling closer, enjoying the warmth. When had he gotten so cold?

The arms seemed to want to keep him at a distance, and Hanzo used his weight to fight against them. “Uhhh, Genj, maybe you should run’n get Mercy,” another voice said. “He’s kinda freakin’ me out. Plus he ain’t lookin’ too good.”

Hanzo felt himself fading. There was a ringing in his ears that became stronger as his vision got darker. He felt so far away from everything, like he was slowly sinking, a boulder tossed into in dark waters, unable to fight against the gravity propelling him downward. His body tingled, and for a moment, Hanzo wondered if he was dying. Then all went dark.


	3. Logical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all are the sweetest. Have another chapter.
> 
> Warning for reference to suicide.

Jesse wondered how he ended up in this situation. He looked at Hanzo in his hospital bed, sweaty with brows furrowed even in sleep and currently clutching Jesse’s hand to his chest in a vice-grip. Jesse knew he could free himself from the other man’s crushing hold if he wanted to, but any time he tried Angela glared daggers at him.

“Jesse, just be patient,” she sighed as she ran around the unconscious man. “You are keeping him calm and making my job easier. Please.”

It was true. When Hanzo had passed out, he clung to Jesse for dear life. Peeling him away from Jesse was like trying to pull open a locked door — Genji eventually gave up. So Jesse was forced to carry the man, who was surprisingly lighter than expected, the whole way to the medbay. Even when Jesse tried to set Hanzo down onto the bed, the man had breathed heavy and only gripped tighter. Just his luck.

Jesse had eventually reached an unspoken agreement with Hanzo, allowing the man to hold his hand rather than clinging to his torso, in an attempt to make Angela’s job easier. Although, attempting to get Hanzo into his hospital gown was turning out to be a nightmare. Hanzo grumbled and dug his nails into Jesse’s hand as Angela untucked his pants from the edges of the metal prosthetics and gently pulled the clothing away.

Next was his t-shirt. Jesse was forced to pull his hand away from Hanzo’s grip so Angela could remove the garment. As soon as Jesse let go, Hanzo’s breath became heavy and he mumbled a panicked phrase. Despite his feelings towards the man, Jesse found himself eager to soothe Hanzo. He hushed him and hummed softly; Jesse didn’t know why he did it. Perhaps it was a natural urge to help a pained teammate.

Finally, the shirt was removed. Hanzo shuddered.

Angela paused for a moment, looking over Hanzo’s shirtless form. Her hand lingered to trace over a particularly nasty vertical scar along his toned stomach, right above his navel. “He’s lost weight since he had his first examination; I can tell just by looking.”

As they slipped the hospital gown over Hanzo, Jesse found himself staring at that large scar. For a brief moment, he wondered how anyone could have possibly gotten close enough to Hanzo to stab him, to harm him so vehemently. The wound had to be self-inflicted. Jesse knew what it meant; he just had not expected to see Hanzo, as proud as the man seemed, wearing such a mark on his body. The mark of a sad, defeated soul. Jesse averted his eyes after a moment, feeling slightly guilty at having seen what was probably on of the man’s biggest secrets.

“Okay I’m going to remove his prosthetics now,” Angela said as she finished attaching a variety of moniters and inserting the IV. “The skin around them looks red and blistered. Keep him still.”

The cowboy did as he was told, watching Hanzo’s face for any indication of discomfort. Angela lifted one of the man’s legs and began unlatching the sythetic nerves; Jesse didn’t even get the chance to offer up his hand again before Hanzo shot up, gasping.

“What are you _doing_?” Hanzo growled at the doctor. “What is the meaning of this?!”

With a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, Jesse pushed the man back down onto the bed. “Calm down. Your legs might be infected. Angie is just-”

“I am _fine_ ,” Hanzo spat as he began reaching for the IV needle in his arm. Jesse grabbed Hanzo’s other arm, pinning the man to the bed.

“Stop bein’ a stubborn asshole for a single goddamn minute and let us help you,” Jesse growled and pushed Hanzo down into the mattress harder every time he fought.

Hanzo seemed to be getting more panicked by the moment, and Jesse began rethinking his strategy of manhandling a mentally disturbed man. The soft click of Angela removing the right prosthetic sounded, and Hanzo’s eyes widened, pupils darting left and right. “Let me go,” he demanded. “Let me go _now_.”

“Shimada, hey-”

Jesse heard the sound of the left prosthetic being detached. “Where are you taking them?” Hanzo asked, still thrashing in Jesse’s hold.

“Hanzo, look at me!” Jesse growled. Suprisingly, the frightened man listened, looking up to meet the cowboy’s gaze. For a moment, Jesse’s breath caught. Hanzo’s beautiful, intense doe eyes made his heart skip a beat; it was something he was not expecting.

Jesse cleated his throat. “Look ya sonofabitch, nobody here is gonna hurt you.”

Hanzo looked unconvinced, eyebrows knitting together and the shocked look never leaving his eyes. “I mean it,” Jesse continued. “Sure, mosta us hate your guts, but you’re safe here as long as ya don’t try anything funny. We ain’t malicious. Nobody’ll hurt ya. Swear.”

Hanzo’s eyes narrowed and he flinched when Angela began santizing the chafed skin on his stumps. “Then you are fools,” he said, but he stilled in Jesse’s arms.

“ ‘s that supposed to mean?” Jesse asked, moving his arms away and allowing Hanzo some movement.

“It means that you have allowed the murderer of one of your agents join your ranks simply due to that former victim’s lapse in judgement,” Hanzo replied.

“Whadaya mean ‘lapse in judgement?’”

Hanzo huffed. “You ask too many questions.” Jesse glared and Hanzo continued, “I am refering to my brother’s supposed forgiveness. I can only explain it as a temporary state of mind. He bested me in battle, and therefore Genji felt safe enough to sheath his weapon and offer me a choice. However, I cannot see this state lasting. My brother will eventually come to his senses and realize his forgiveness was a mistake; then you will all feel like fools for letting me join you.”

Jsse flexed his fingers. “You sayin’ you’re gonna hurt him?”

“Of course not,” Hanzo scoffed. “I am only wondering why he has not, nor any of you for that matter, hurt me yet. It would seem like the logical course of action.”

“Yeah, well, then you’re the real fool.”

Hanzo let out a single booming laugh and looked away, seemingly at nothing. “I suppose you are right,” he said with a shrug.

Behind him, Jesse heard Angela clear her throat. “If you are finished talking, I have some private matters to discuss with Hanzo, Jesse.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Angela sighed. “That means ‘leave,’ Jesse.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” Jesse said, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned on his heels and his spurs jingled as he walked out of the room.

Once through the door, Jesse examined the crescent-shaped indents that Hanzo’s nails left on his hand. Some had turned a pinkish-purple from the pressure, and Jesse clicked his tongue. He had not expected his afternoon to take such a strange turn. Spent with Hanzo of all people.

Despite everything, Jesse found his thoughts focused on the older Shimada. Angela had mentioned that Hanzo had likely fainted from exhaustion, over-work, and an oncoming illness cause brought on by a weakened immune system. Jesse wondered how the man could let himself stoop so low.

And the scar of his stomach. The panicked look in his eyes. It made the gears in Jesse’s mind turn to no end.

* * *

Hanzo watched the cowboy walk out of the room, hat placed proudly on his head despite the lack of sunlight inside. He heard Jesse’s footsteps long after he left Hanzo’s sight. The older Shimada rolled his eyes.

“So, Hanzo,” Dr. Ziegler began as she looked at something on her tablet. “Your heart rate is good, save for the spike you just had. Blood pressure is normal. Are you having any symptoms?”

Hanzo saw no use in lying. The monitors that Dr. Ziegler had him hooked up to could probably sense all of his physical disturbances anyway. “I have a headache.”

She typed it on her tablet and looked at Hanzo expectantly. “I, um,” he mentally examined himself for anything out of the ordinary. “I suppose I am more tired than normal. And hungry. My body is also sore.”

“I thought as much,” the doctor said coldly as she typed it out anyway. “Would you happen to have any idea why?”

Hanzo remained silent. Angela ran her hand through her hair with a huff. “After all Genji has done, after he’s tried so hard, why are you doing this?”

Hanzo did not answer.

“Here is what’s going to happen, Hanzo,” Angela said, he strong tone prompting Hanzo to finally look at her. “You’re going to start therapy with me-”

“I hardly think that is necessary. I am a grown-”

“You are _going_ to start therapy if you want to be cleared for any missions.”

Hanzo gawked at her. “What is your reasoning behind this?”

Dr. Ziegler slammed her tablet down onto the table. “Really? Do you want me to give you the reasons that I’ve seen _just this morning_?” She began counting off on her fingers. “You fainted from exhaustion and malnutrition; in your stupor, you panicked whenever you were not in contact with McCree; you panicked when I removed your prosthetics, thinking that we were trying to harm you; your legs are red and blistered from not being cared for; and there’s a scar on your stomach from what looks an awful lot like a suicide attempt.”

Hanzos mouth was stuck open in surprise and terror. “You...saw that?”

“How do Wednesdays sound for you, Agent Shimada?” Angela asked.

“I am...not occupied on Wednesdays.”

“Wonderful,” Angela replied. “Now a bit about this therapy. It is a rather new method that uses neurosensors to pinpoint areas of your brain that cause distress and focus on them. You will then be prompted to sleep, and in your dream state, your memories will be abled to be copied by me and transferred to my computer where I will view them and-”

“Are you insane?” Hanzo blurted our before the doctor could finish. “Are you even a certified therapist? This seems highly unnececessary.”

“Yes, I am a licensed psychologist. And yes, I believe this to be necessary. I thought you would see the value in such a logical method. There is no room for fabrication, and I will effectively see what is causing you problems. This will allow us to foster the healthiest and most direct conversations.”

Hanzo was stunned into silence. When Dr. Ziegler put it that way, he could in fact see the effectiveness of the therapeutical method. He sighed and turned his gaze to the floor, suddenly finding the cracks in the tile very interesting. “I suppose you are right,” he finally said.

Angela picked up her tablet again and tapped down a few things. “Then it’s settled,” she said. “My schedule on Wednesday mornings is clear. I will see you the first Wednesday after you are discharged. Please don’t forget.”

With that, Dr. Ziegler turned and walked out the same door McCree had minutes before. Hanzo sunk down into the mattress suddenly craving a bottle of sake.


	4. A First Time for Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for your wonderful comments. They keep me going! Also, allow me to say that this IS in fact a mchanzo fic even though there have been way more Mercy and Hanzo interactions lmao. Hang in there with me.
> 
> Warnings in this chapter: gore, violence, child abuse, killing

_When he was ten, Hanzo realized that the only positive attention he got was from performing well in training. He woke up early each day to practice his martial arts, swordsmanship, and archery, making sure never to be one moment late for a session. With every kick landed, every dummy sliced in two, and every bullseye hit, Hanzo heard his father bellow his praise from the sidelines, a bright smile on his face._

_It made Hanzo feel warm inside — something he was not accustomed to._

_Two years had passed since Hanzo received his prosthetic limbs, and he had adapted to their weight and the strangeness of the synthetic nerves sending electric signal throughout his body. They felt no pain, helped him lock onto foodholds when climbing, and allowed him to best his enemies in combat. They were an asset to him...until they weren’t._

_When Hanzo found himself missing too many shots with his bow or being pinned by a sparring partner, his father’s smile quickly morphed to a terrible frown. On a particularly bad training day, Hanzo’s face became littered with new, tender bruises. Sometimes Sojiro broke his fingers. Sometimes he ripped clumps of hair from Hanzo's scalp. But every time, Sojiro took his legs._

_It was his punishment. If he did not perform well enough, he did not get his legs until his next session. Whenever Sojiro angrily tore the limbs from his body, Hanzo sobbed, begging him not to. Sometimes, he would drag himelf along the ground of the Shimada castle, attempting to go about his normal routine. Most times, he would lay curled and sobbing on the floor of the training dojo until his next lesson began, too ashamed to be seen._

_So Hanzo trained hard, with his entire heart and soul. He trained to see Sojiro’s smile, to hear his praise._

_His skill was the one thing he had that Genji could not surpass. Hanzo hated to admit that he took pride in his father’s scowls and angry mumbling when Genji showed up late to practice. It made him feel important._

_One morning, as Hanzo practiced his movements with his small katana, Sojiro approached. He clapped Hanzo on the shoulder. Hanzo flinched._

_“You fight well, son,” his father said with a toothy smile. “Almost better than me when I was your age.”_

_“Thank you, father,” Hanzo replied, his cheeks dusted pink from his swelling pride._

_Sojiro hummed his acknowledgement. “Soon you will receive your dragons. Soon you will be a man.”_

_Hanzo’s eyes widened and he felt giddiness rise in his chest, bouncing off the walls of his insides like butterflies. “Yes, father.”_

_“Do you think you are ready?”_

_Hanzo nodded with such force that his brain rattled. “I am, father.”_

_Sojiro’s smile widened and he chuckled. “Very good, my son. Tonight, the Shimada clan has an important meeting. I would like you to be there.”_

_Hanzo’s eyes lit up, and he smiled. He held himself back from jumping up and down with glee, but just barely. “I...I would be honored.”_

_His father nodded and turned to leave Hanzo to his practice. As he neared the door, he turned back once more to his son. “And Hanzo?”_

_“Yes, father?”_

_“Bring your sword. It is customary.”_

* * *

_That night, Hanzo arrived early to the meeting hall, his sword strapped to his back and his hair done up in the nicest bun he could manage. His father, too, had already arrived and beamed at Hanzo as he entered. “Please, Hanzo, have a seat to my right. The others will arrive shortly.”_

_Hanzo raced to the seat beside his father. With every stride, his small sword swung against his back. Hanzo let it slip from his shoulders and propped the weapon against his tall chair as he climbed up._

_He mirrored Sojiro’s movements as the rest of the elders flooded into the room. Hanzo kept his back straight, his gaze forward, and his expression stoic. Soon, his mother entered and Hanzo excitedly met her gaze as she sat to her husband’s left. Her eyes widened when she noticed Hanzo, gaze flickering back and forth between Sojiro and him. But she said nothing._

_As the elders took there seats at the long table, Sojiro stood. There was silence. Hanzo leaned forward in his seat._

_“Any further news from the business sector of the Eastern Koto ward?” Sojiro asked._

_Hanzo’s uncle spoke up. “Despite increases in Shimada-gumi protection throughout the ward, Shinoda still refuses to pay his dues. He believes that we are not doing all that we can to act professional and stop rival yakuza activity.”_

_Sojiro nodded. “And he will not see reason?”_

_Unanimous negative murmurs sounded throughout the room. Sojiro stroked his beard. “Very well. Bring them in.”_

_Hanzo watched as Shimada guards suddenly dragged two people into the room. The first was an middle-aged man who had begun balding on the top of his head. He was heavily beaten, one eye swollen shut and bruises covering his face and arms. The second was a young boy, perhaps around Hanzo’s age. The were tears streaming down his face, and his eyes never left the middle-aged captive. Hanzo could do nothing but let out a tiny gasp._

_“Shinoda-san,” Sojiro spoke, voice echoing. The middle-aged man met his gaze the best he coud. “You refuse to pay the Shimada-gumi for their generous services. Now will be the only time you are allowed to speak to defend yourself.”_

_The man coughed up some blood and spit in the direction of Sojiro’s feet. Sojiro didn’t bat an eye. “You call what you’re doing ‘protection?’” Shinoda asked. “Your men come into my businesses and take what they want with no regard for morals. They steal from us, threaten us, and sometimes they make good on those threats while laughing in our faces. I am not paying when your men have undoubtedly stolen their payment already.”_

_Sojiro tsked and moved closer to the man. The only sound in the room was the click of his shoes against the wooden floor. “The Shimada are professionals, Shinoda-san. We are the best at what we do, and our mere presence has certainly discouraged any further gang activity in your sector. I have yet to see any crime reports televised. I believe we deserve what we were promised. Do you not agree?”_

_Shinoda remained quiet._

_“I see,” Sojiro sighed. He then turned to Hanzo and motioned for his son to stand. In a daze, Hanzo followed his orders. “This is my son and heir, Hanzo Shimada. At ten years old, he displays more professionalism than you or any of your associates. He exhibits the skill and discipline of the Shimada. You, on the other hand, are a pathetic excuse of a man. Let us test if your worthlessness has rubbed off on your offspring, shall we?”_

_With all his might, the man fought against the guards holding him back and broke free. He jumped wrap his arms around the young boy, his son. “You will not lay a finger on him!”_

_Sojiro smiled. “You are correct. I won’t. Hanzo, draw your sword.”_

_Hanzo suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here. He looked at the young boy, cradled in his father’s arms, and Hanzo felt tears well up in his eyes. He drew his katana and held it away from his body like it was diseased._

_Sojiro nodded at the guards and they ripped Shinoda, kicking and screaming, away from his son. The boy was sobbing and shaking where he stood. He was handed a small dagger by a Shimada guard, and the boy absentmindedly held it in his grasp._

_Sojiro looked between the boy and Hanzo. “You will fight until one is dead. Begin.”_

_Hanzo stared first at his father and then at the sword in his hands. He began hyperventilating._

_The boy advanced on him, yelling and sobbing hysterically. He slashed at Hanzo, cutting his cheek. Hanzo felt warm blood run down his face and took several steps back. The boy advanced again._

_Hanzo received blow after blow. A cut to his shoulder, to his side, to his arm. All the while, over the boy’s yelling, Hanzo could hear Shinoda yelling even louder. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted endlessly to his boy. Hanzo looked at Sojiro and was met with a scowl. He wanted it to be a smile._

_Jumping to the side, Hanzo swung his katana up and through the boy’s stomach. Shinoda screamed. The boy fell to his knees and the onto his back, clutching at his stomach but unable to stop the rush of blood and guts. The boy gurgled._

_Hanzo dropped to his knees next to the pained boy and hovered his hand above the wound, too afraid to touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he stabbed the boy again. The boy screamed. Hanzo stabbed again. The boy screamed. Hanzo kept stabbing, but the noise wouldn’t stop._

_Hands reached out and pulled Hanzo away from the boy. The sword clattered to the floor as Hanzo convulsed. He realized that the screaming was his own, but he couldn’t stop. “You monsters!” Shinoda yelled one time after another, his voice cracking. It was the last thing Hanzo heard before he was pulled from the room entirely. The doors shut behind him._

_The arm pulled Hanzo down the hall. He looked up and saw it was his mother. “Mother,” he cried, looking at his hands. He saw that they were coated with blood, as were his face and clothes. He sobbed. “Mother.”_

_He wanted her to hug him, to tell him everything would be alright and that he wasn’t what he feared. He wanted her to play with him and Genji and discuss his day over meals. He wanted her to sing to him and braid his hair while they watched movies. But the way she looked at him, red-faced and tears in her eyes, told him that that could never be the case, not now. He was a monster._

_“You...need a bath,” she choked out through the tears. Hanzo wanted to die._

_That day, he kept his legs._

* * *

  
Hanzo woke up with a start. The neurosensors attached to his scalp had given off a small jolt of electricity, indicating that the extraction was complete. He sat up in the tall, padded chair and cracked his back. The room was dimly-lit and cold, his ideal sleeping conditions.

Today marked his first of many appointments with Dr. Ziegler. Hanzo did not know what to expect from the procedure. He hoped that the memories viewed were not too revealing, though that attitude of secrecy would likely prove to be counterproductive. He still could not understand why such methods were necessary for him to be cleared for missions — he could kill his targets easily in his current state. Hanzo sighed and rubbed his temples.

Dr. Ziegler walked in some time later, holding her tablet. “I’m going to turn the lights on,” she spoke softly, and Hanzo nodded. The sudden bright lighting made him shield his eyes with a hand momentarily.

“Sorry,” Angela whispered as she shuffled to remove the sensors from Hanzo’s head. Once finished, she sat across from him.

“I viewed three memories that were shown to cause you significant distress,” she began. “I would like to begin with one from when you were six. It was perhaps...less severe than the rest. It took place at Genji’s birthday party. Do you recall the one?”

Hanzo scowled. He couldn’t believe he was about to be prompted to talk about his feelings. “Yes, I know it.”

Angela nodded. “Would you like to discuss anything in particular regarding it?”

“No.”

“I see.”

Angela poked around in her tablet for a moment before facing Hanzo once more. “Your father referred to you as an investment. What are your feelings concerning that?”

“It is logical.”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Hanzo looked at the floor. “He was kumicho of our clan and I was the heir. It was stupid of me to think that he would treat me with typical familial love and affection. He treated me as was expected.”

“I don’t think it was stupid of you to think that,” Angela replied. “You were six and he was your father. It’s natural to crave affection like that, healthy even.”

“There was nothing natural about me clinging to fantasies.”

Angela frowned. “Is that what you would tell yourself at that age?”

Hanzo hesitated. “Perhaps.”

“Scratch that,” Angela muttered. “Is that what you would tell to another child in that position. Perhaps your own child. You would tell them that the affection they crave is fantastical?”

Once more, Hanzo took a moment to think. “I would never have children.”

“Hypothetically.”

“I would likely not be so harsh with my words.”

“And why not?”

“Because a child would not respond well to such a tone.”

Angela typed something on the tablet. “Do you think you responded well?”

“Not at the moment the words were delivered to me, no.”

“Seeing that the memories still cause significant distress, I would say that you do not respond well to them now either.”

Hanzo sighed, accepting that he had been caught. “And what am I to do of that?”

“Tell me how it makes you feel,” Angela said simply.

Hanzo thought, tracing the tiles of the floor with his eyes. “Worthless,” he finally decided.

Her eyes were sad, like his mother’s. Hanzo hated it. “You’re not worthless, Hanzo. You were a product of your situation, which is not an excuse for some of the things you’ve done, but now you’re here. You’re helping us make the world a better place.”

Hanzo shrugged. “Anybody can do what I’m doing now and without the terrible resume.”

“This isn’t a zero-sum game. Just because somebody could maybe do your job a little better doesn’t make you worthless.”

“What is the second memory?” Hanzo whispered, not eager to acknowledge the truth in the doctor’s words.

Angela stared at him for a moment. Hanzo felt her gaze on him, despite keeping his eyes downcast. “Hanzo...”

“Just...please.”

Angela pursed her lips. “You were eight. Your legs were removed, but your mother still would not give you affection or read to you.”

“I know it.”

“Was your mother always like that with you? Keeping you at a distance like that?”

Hanzo nodded. “She was.”

“Why do you think?”

Without skipping a beat, Hanzo answered. “Because I was a monster. She saw it in me even before I did.”

“You were a child-”

“I was a killer!” Hanzo seethed. He stood in his chair, and Angela stood with him. She took a step towards him. Then another. And another. Hanzo glared at her all the while, until she was standing directly in front of him.

“You were a child,” she spoke softly. “You did not deserve that treatment.”

“I was not a child, I-” Hanzo was cut off by Angela wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing tight. He gasped and held his own arms up and away from her. “What are you doing?”

“Hugging you,” she replied, guiding his head to her shoulder with a hand in his hair. Hanzo rested his chin on her shoulder in shock.

“Why?”

“Because you deserve it.” She rubbed a hand along his back.

“You pity me,” Hanzo muttered.

Angela shushed him and shook her head. “I empathize.”

“I’ve never been voluntarily hugged before.” He wrapped his arms around her, resting his hands awkwardly on the backs of her shoulders. “This is new. Unless it isn’t actually voluntary and your mental state is forcing you to do this.”

Angela squeezed uncomfortably tight and Hanzo gasped. “Stop thinking too hard.”

“Is that not the point of therapy?”

Angela felt warm against his chest, and when she moved away, he almost mourned the loss. She looked him up and down. “You were forced to kill from age ten.”

“I am aware.”

“That first kill...what was it like?”

Hanzo decided that, this time, he would focus his gaze on the ceiling. “Empty.”

“How so?”

“It was a blur,” he began. “I kept trying to kill him quickly, but it didn’t seem like he was dying. So I kept stabbing and cutting. I didn’t realize that he was long dead until my mother dragged me away. Afterwards, I felt nothing for a while. I thought of how to kill myself to get the feeling to stop. But I was too scared of my father and what he would do, even in death.”

“That has to have been so hard for you,” Angela whispered.

“I am not the one who died.”

“That doesn’t matter.” She typed something. “Did your father beat you often?”

“Less and less as I become more skilled. In my youngest years it was daily.”

“I’m sorry.”

Hanzo scoffed and sat back down in his chair. Angela followed suit.

“I want to apologize,” she said. Hanzo raised a brow. “For taking your legs the other day. I’m now aware that that was likely the worst way to handle the situation. If I had known that removing your legs was a former punishment for you, I would have been more careful. I am very sorry.”

Hanzo nodded, stunned at her honesty. “It...is alright.”

“Thank you.”

An awkward silence entered the room. Hanzo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. In the corner, one of the fluorescent lights briefly flickered. Angela checked her watch.

“Our time is about up,” she said. Hanzo was out of his chair in a second. “Wait!”

He paused, one foot out the door. “I have a homework assignment.” Hanzo waited with baited breath, knowing that he was going to despise the next words that flew from the doctor’s mouth. “Go to one of the team lunches before our next session. And sit next to someone.”

The second after the words left Angela’s mouth, Hanzo was gone.


	5. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a boring chapter oops.  
> But it's more of a setup for the next chapter which will be much better.  
> Also, thanks again for all of your wonderful comments! You're so nice!!

Hanzo waited until the Tuesday before his next therapy session to attend lunch in the dining area. As he stepped into the room, artificial light glaring down from above, Hanzo finally realized just how lost he felt. The concept of sitting next to one of his teammates made him want to run away and hide in a cave for the rest of his days. Standing frozen in the doorway, Hanzo grit his teeth, frustrated at his nerves. His eyes scanned the expanse of agents, smiling and chatting with one another. 

In the meantime, while Hanzo avoided the dining area like the plague, Angela had enlisted Genji to deliver a tub of protein powder to Hanzo’s room and make sure that his brother was eating. Genji would normally fill up a plate with food and leave it in the refrigerator, wrapped in plastic that had been neatly labeled with Hanzo’s name. When Hanzo had became aware of this trend, he nearly cracked a smile before reminding himself that he did not deserve this special treatment. Going without food was his necessary punishment -- punishment for being too cowardly to regularly attend team meals, punishment for his past deeds. Hanzo failed to understand how Genji and Angela did not see this. He scarfed down the food when it was given to him, nonetheless, and he made sure to drink a dose of the protein powder every morning. If extra attention could somehow be avoided, Hanzo had decided that he would do everything in his power to make that so.

Hanzo’s eyes landed on an empty seat at a table with Zarya, Reinhardt, and Torbojrn, and he found himself shaking his head. He knew that Zarya and Reinhardt possessed more physical strength than any other agents of Overwatch, and Hanzo also was not sure of what the group thought of him. The idea of sitting next to two immensely strong giants who could easily overpower him and who also may hate him with a burning passion made Hanzo cringe. He wanted to keep all of his teeth today.

Next, Hanzo’s eyes found a seat next to Hana, Lucio, Lena, and Brigitte. Again, he shook his head. The group seemed much too young, and others may find it laughable if he, a 38-year-old man, were to sit with them. At the table next to them were Genji and Zenyatta who were both rubbing their chins, seemingly deep in thought. Hanzo did not wish to disturb them.

Finally, Hanzo’s eyes found a seat next to Angela, and he let out a sigh of relief. He had at least got the idea that Angela did not completely despise him. Thus, he felt somewhat safe in her presence -- her soft words soothed him. After scooping some barbequed chicken and pickled cabbage onto his plate and filling a glass with water, Hanzo made a beeline for the seat beside Angela. As he set down his plate, the conversation at the table died down and Hanzo finally noticed the other occupants. McCree, Jack, and Ana stared at him with raised eyebrows while Angela shot him a bright smile. 

“Hanzo, thank you for joining us,” she said. “Have a seat.”

Hanzo nodded and sunk down into the empty chair, gaze now trained on the clean, white floor. “Thank you,” he said before taking a sip of his water. Now that he thought about it, he hoped that Angela did not see it as cheating that Hanzo decided to sit next to her of all people and that this counted as sufficient completion of his homework assignment.

“Have you been watching the news?” Angela asked. When Hanzo shook his head, she continued. “We were just talking about the white-robbed assassin who has been in all the breaking stories. Have you heard anything about him?”

“Unfortunately, I have not,” he said. Ana was passing him her smartphone, and Hanzo looked at it curiously before noticing that she had a video pulled up from an international news site. Hanzo nodded his thanks and played the video.

_We are coming to you from Rialto, Italy,_ spoke a small woman with what sounded to Hanzo like a French accent. _Last night, the white-robed assassin claimed another victim, striking down Giovanni Giordani. Giovanni Giordani is the son of the late Antonio Giordani who had been assassinated by an Overwatch black-ops team around nine years ago. The white-robed assassin has seemingly been following a trend of killing high-level businesspeople and gang leaders, having also now murdered members affiliated with Los Muertos in Dorado, Mexico and yakuza in Hanamura, Japan._

At the mention of his previous home, Hanzo’s eyes widened. He stared at the phone intently.

_So far, police have been unable to detain the assassin. We are unsure at this time whether or not this is illegal black-ops activity from Overwatch, which had disbanded after the Petras Act. Police are still gathering information, and we will keep our viewers updated as we find out more._

As the video ended, Hanzo slid the phone back to Ana. “This is not good for us. People will be on the lookout for any Overwatch activity.”

“Yup,” McCree said, popping the ‘p.’

“That’s why we have to find out more about the assassin,” Jack said with a growl. “Maybe he’s in with Talon.”

“Why would Talon kill its own allies, Jack?” Ana asked. “Or potential allies.”

“Why does Talon do anything?” Jack shot back. 

“It is rather strange,” Hanzo spoke up. Everyone at the table turned to him. “If this were Talon, that is. I know that Talon has sought alliship with the Shimada clan on many occasions, so attacking the clan would be out of the ordinary. It does not seem like Talon activity.”

McCree scoffed. “Yeah, and how d’we know you’re not with Talon?”

With a bite of chicken halfway to his mouth, Hanzo froze. He set down his fork, suddenly losing his appetite. “Is that what worries you?”

McCree was glaring at him. “Yeah, ‘s part of it. Can’t wrap my head around why you’re here.”

Hanzo nodded. He looked up, made the mistake of making brief eye-contact with the cowboy, and shifted his gaze back to the floor. “That is a valid fear. If I were you, I would not trust me either. I suppose all I can do is assure you that I am here for my brother’s sake, because he asked me to be here. When I am cleared to begin missions, I will do my best to prove myself.”

McCree leaned forward, elbows propped on the table, and he waited for Hanzo to look at him before he spoke. “Let’s get somethin’ straight, Shimada. There is _nothing_ that’ll ever make me want _you_ watchin’ my back out there. Could do without bein’ stabbed in it.”

"Jesse!” Angela shouted as she kicked his shin under the table. “Why would you say that?!”

Hanzo was already standing, food forgotten. The statement hit him like a ton of bricks. More than ever, he wondered what he was doing at this place, in this organization. When he was a boy, he dreamed of being a hero. But it was just that, a dream. He did not belong here. He was a monster.

Angela was calling for Hanzo to wait as he fast-walked out of the dining area. He ignored her.

* * *

After Hanzo stormed from the dining area, Angela had glared at Jesse with such intensity that he thought he saw a fire in her eyes. If looks could kill, Jesse would have fallen dead on the spot. “You need to get a handle on yourself,” she had said. “Imagine how you felt when you were first brought to Overwatch, how people looked at you. You really should think about these things before you open your damn mouth.” 

And that is how Jesse found himself spending the better part of his day at the training range, lost in thought as he shot one bullseye after another. The click of his gun firing was calming, almost meditative, and the sunset along the Gibraltar beach helped the cowboy ease his breath. Jesse allowed his thoughts to focus on the eldest Shimada and what made him want to treat the man as he did. He knew that most, if not all, of his anger was rooted in Jesse’s time with Blackwatch, a time when he had seen firsthand the pain that Hanzo caused. Jesse remembered Genji detailing the agony he had felt as Hanzo’s dragons scorched through his skin and bones, searing flesh and leaving him unable to think of anything but the pain. He remembered asking himself how anybody could ever do such a thing to their own brother.

 _Evil, monster, disgusting,_ Jesse had thought every time Genji told stories of his brother. But Jesse knew that things were not as black and white as that -- there was a complexity to the situation that he had ignored up until this point, a complexity that derived from Hanzo’s side of the story. Jesse knew that he was biased after seeing Genji’s state in Blackwatch, but that did not mean that he shouldn’t give Hanzo a sliver of a chance. Hell, if nobody had given Jesse a chance, he would be rotting in a prison cell with much worse morals than he had now. 

Jesse suddenly felt a wave of guilt hit him. He holstered his gun and made his way to the dining area. It was empty, save for Genji and Angela. Angela narrowed her eyes as he entered. “Aw, now don’t look at me like that,” Jesse said, hands raised defensively. “D’ya know where Hanzo might be?”

Angela huffed. “Are you going to apologize?"

“Sure am,” Jesse replied as he moved to the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer.

Genji shrugged. “He’s probably somewhere high up. When we were younger, he liked to hide on roofs and towers in his free time.”

“Thank ya kindly,” Jesse said. He turned on his heels and walked down the hall, making his way to the staircase that led to the roof. As he reached the top of his ascent, Jesse began to wonder if he should have left his Peacekeeper in his room. He did not want to seem overly threatening. Jesse sighed and pushed open the roof access door, too lazy to act on his worries.

The sun was nearing the final stretch of its descent, painting the sky with strokes of orange, yellow, and red. The air was cool enough for Jesse to keep his serape wrapped around his shoulders. Gripping the beer bottles by the necks, he looked around for Hanzo. After some moments of spotting nothing, Jesse shifted his gaze upwards and finally found Hanzo sitting perched on his knees on a clearing higher up the communication tower. He had his back to the cowboy, but Jesse saw that he was wearing shorts and a plain t-shirt, the attire resembling pyjamas. Hanzo also had his hair down -- a rare sight for Jesse -- and it blew behind him with every small breeze. 

Not wanting to make too much noise, Jesse removed his boots and began climbing the metal ladder up to the clearing. When he poked his head over the top, he found Hanzo staring at him with a blank face. His expression revealed nothing, but Jesse quickly noticed how puffed and pink Hanzo’s eyes were. It made Jesse feel even more guilty.

“I brought beers,” Jesse said as he hauled himself over the ledge. Hanzo said nothing, just watched him approach with a frown. After Jesse popped the caps off the beers with his utility knife, he offered one to Hanzo. The archer paused a moment, but accepted the beverage without complaint. Jesse took a seat next to him.

“I am not weak,” Hanzo suddenly blurted. Jesse turned to look at the man but found that Hanzo had turned his head completely away from Jesse, hiding his face from view.

“Cryin’ don’t make you weak,” Jesse said.

A silence followed. All Jese heard was the crashing of the waves against the sand below them.

“Look, Hanzo, I’m sorry for what I said back there,” Jesse began, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “That was wrong of me. Ya gotta understand that...I knew Genji back in the day. I saw him at his worst, and he was so angry with you. I couldn’t even imagine what he was goin’ through, but it still made me angry too. I blamed you, and thought that if I ever saw you I’d get revenge for him.”

Hanzo was silent as he sipped his beer, so Jesse continued. “I just...I don’t even know if I don’t like you. It doesn’t make much sense, but I just felt like I’d be goin’ against my own morals if I wasn’t bein’ rude to you. I felt like I woulda felt guilty and wrong if I was nice, like I was failin’ to defend Genji. But now, I feel guilty for bein’ rude to you too. Does that make sense?”

Hanzo nodded after a moment. “You feel like you would not be able to maintain your heroic cowboy caricature if you treat a fratricidal murderer and former yakuza boss with kindness and respect, but, with me being a total stranger to you, it also feels wrong for you to insult me.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Jesse said.

“Your thoughts make perfect sense, but I believe that you were correct with your former mindset. The one in which you undoubtedly hate me.”

Jesse sighed and took a sip of his beer. Hanzo downed the rest from his own bottle. “But I know it’s much more complicated than that,” Jesse continued. “I’ve...I’ve killed plenty’a people. Some of ‘em good people. And I never stuck around to see the damage I’d caused to families, to loved ones, after I’d taken people away from their lives. I’m sure there are plenty out there who hate me and would shoot me on sight. So, I’m realizin’ that it’s hypocritical for me to treat ya the way I’ve been. Just want you to know I’m sorry.”

“But you are a good man,” Hanzo said. “And I...I know that I do not belong here. I am not good like Genji thinks I am, thinks I could be. But I do not know where else to go. It is selfish of me, but I do not want to be alone again.”

“How long you been alone?” Jesse asks.

“Since as long as I can recall. There has never been a place where I fit. I was built to be alone, but with every passing year, the solitude becomes more tortuous.”

Jesse shook his head. “Nobody’s built to be alone.”

Hanzo huffed. “Fine, then I was made to be more beneficial to whomever I am currently serving when I am living and working alone.”

“That’s…” Jesse frowned deeply, searching his brain for the right words. “That’s bullshit.”

“Very eloquent.”

“Naw, I mean it. How do you even know that you’re better off alone if you’ve always been alone? Doesn’t make sense.”

Hanzo growled. “I know because I am dangerous.”

“Yeah?” Jesse said. “So are all of us. Every one of us here has blood on our hands, Hanzo.”

“What?” Hanzo asked with a sneer. “You want me here now?”

“Yeah, sure do.”

Hanzo ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Why?”

“I think we need as many agents as we can get, and you need t’not be alone bathin’ in your self-hatred all the time.”

Hanzo stood. “You do not know me.”

Jesse stood too. “Yeah, but I wanna.”

Hanzo shook his head and began walking off to the ledge of the clearing. “You do not.”

Before Hanzo could climb down the side of the building, Jesse took two large steps over to him and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, turning Hanzo around to face him. Hanzo’s dark hair swayed gently with the movement, and Jesse had to stop himself from staring. “I do. Listen, Hana’s having a movie night tomorrow. Wants to watch some slasher films or something. You should come.”

As Jesse withdrew his hand, he watched Hanzo touch his fingertips to his shoulder where Jesse had gripped him. After some time, Hanzo let his hand drop back down to his side. “I will think about it,” he said before climbing down the side of the tower and wandering off into the darkness.


	6. Under Tough Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you wonderful readers! I feel like I should apologize for any mistakes since none of this work will be beta read! Next chapter will be movie night hell yeah.
> 
> Warnings in this chapter: child abuse, violence, mentions of suicidal thought, depression

_On the day of his thirteenth birthday, Hanzo got his dragons. The blaring sound of his alarm woke him on that bright May morning, and, for the first time in years, Hanzo felt a wonderful giddiness rise in his chest. He’d spent years watching his father practice swordsmanship with his great fire-red dragon while his mother perfected archery with her elegant dragon that was white as snow. Now Hanzo would finally bond with a dragon of his own. The elation he drew from that thought prompted him to rush through his morning routine and arrive at the shrine room fifteen minutes before the start of his ceremony._

_Sojiro was already there, expecting him. Hanzo smiled up at his father, and Sojiro smiled back, motioning for Hanzo to have a seat in the middle of the room. Sitting with his legs tucked under him, Hanzo waited for further instruction. He saw a brightness in his father’s eyes, and the blood of the dragon within Hanzo made him crave that gleam of pride from his father like golden treasures, for it was as beautiful and as valuable._

_The elders arrived. Hanzo was instructed to remove his top, which he did as quickly as he could. He bared his right arm, eager to see how his tattoo would be designed. Perhaps his dragon would be orange like the setting sun or black as night. Hanzo did not care either way; he longed to meet his dragon, however it may look, and finally allow it to make its home in his soul._

_Hanzo’s uncle kneeled down next to him and pinned Hanzo’s arms against his sides with strong hands. Hanzo did not question it; he had long since learned that the proceedings of the clan should not be questioned. His uncle’s grip on his arms was so forceful that Hanzo felt his circulation get cut off, forearms becoming colder with the decreased blood flow. There were footsteps approaching from behind, but Hanzo could not turn to see who it was. He was held still but could sense a faint, smokey smell._

_“Hanzo Shimada, heir of the Shimada clan,” Sojiro spoke. “Today you will become a man. As your ancestors before you have done and your descendents will do, you are to receive your dragon.”_

_Hanzo looked down and smiled._

_“This is an honor that few can ever hope to behold,” Sojiro continued. “And it is a pleasure to bestow this honor unto my firstborn. The dragon that choses him will be among the strongest we have ever known. Now we will begin.”_

_Hanzo almost could not contain a wave of excited laughter that rolled through him. The smokey smell became more defined until finally, out of his periphery, Hanzo could finally see a figure moving towards him holding a long rod. At the end of the rod, Hanzo saw the glowing red of burning metal._

_In the blink of an eye, his excitement morphed to terror. Hanzo’s uncle held him still as he began to squirm._

_“Wait!” he cried. The guard holding the rod did not stop. Hanzo recognized the brand as the twin dragon sigil of the Shimada clan. “Wait, please!” he tried again, voice cracking._

_The pain of the hot metal on his flesh was the worst that Hanzo had ever felt. He shrieked until all the air left his lungs, but the guard was relentless. The brand was grinded further into his skin, and, through his tears, Hanzo’s vision began to blur. Everything grew fuzzier and more altered until Hanzo found that he was no longer in the shrine room at all. He sat in a grassy plain that was circled by giant mountains, their peaks covered in snow._

_Hanzo stood and stumbled forward as another rush of pain hit him. He clutched his shoulder but was unable to quell the agony of the burn. The smell of seared flesh almost made him gag._

_“He is like none that we’ve seen before,” Hanzo heard a female voice say. The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. He looked around the plain desperately._

_“Who’s there?” he cried._

_“You are right,” a similarly soothing voice said. “His spirit has been damaged. They’ve used pain to bring him to us.”_

_Once more, Hanzo fell to his knees. “I do not understand!” he yelled to the sky. “Please make it stop!”_

_“He will need us both,” the first voice said._

_Then, with a sudden surge of energy, like a bolt of lightning coursing through his body, Hanzo opened his eyes to find that he was back in the shrine room. In front of him stood two titanic dragons, their bodies shimmering like translucent blue diamonds. He screamed once more as the brand was finally removed, pulling the flesh that had stuck to the hot metal off along with it. All the while, Hanzo stared at the magnificent creatures and no longer knew if he was crying at their beauty or the extreme pain._

_“Two!” Sojiro shouted with the biggest smile Hanzo had ever seen him wear. His father looked at the dragons with wonder and let out a bark of laughter. “Two! I cannot believe this! This is...this is amazing! We must bind them immediately!”_

_Hanzo slumped to the ground as his uncle finally released him. He felt his body being rolled over until his uninjured arm was exposed. The poking against his bicep let Hanzo know that one of the elders had begun sketching the twin dragons’ likenesses onto his skin._

* * *

_It had taken many long hours for his tattoo to be completed. After the final stroke of the needle graced his flesh, Hanzo watched the spirit dragons flow into his arm. As the scaled creatures entered him, it felt like a gentle stream of cold water. And just like that, Hanzo’s tattoo came alive. A glowing energy radiated from his arm, and it was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It seemed that the two spirits were connected to his soul, but still separate, like he was but a host for the wonderful entities within him._

_“Do not worry,” they had both said, their song-like voices echoing in his head. “We are here now, young one.”_

_Now, Hanzo sat on the floor outside of doorway that led to his parents’ bedroom. His burn had been treated and wrapped in gauze while his tattoo was covered in a sticky plastic to protect it as the healing process began. The dragons had been mostly silent, likely figuring that he needed some time alone to work through his pain._

_The harsh conversation Hanzo had heard through the cracked door of his parents’ room had attracted his curiosity. Hanzo knew that he would likely be punished if he got caught eavesdropping, but he had never once heard his parents argue._

_“What we are doing is clearly working, Akari,” his father spat. “He has received two dragons. I have never seen it happen before.”_

_“Can’t you see what you are doing is slowly killing him!” his mother yelled back. “You will have no son left if you keep using these methods.”_

_Hanzo heard his father growl. “We had a compromise, remember? I get to raise Hanzo and will let you raise Genji. I cannot allow you to baby them both. Hanzo must be strong.”_

_“You are not making him strong, you are trying to make an emotionless monster!” Hanzo flinched at his mother’s words and hugged his knees to his chest._

_“You will not spread weakness onto Hanzo,” his father said. “You will not coddle him, and you will not fill his head with peaceful fantasies. That is final.”_

* * *

_That night, Hanzo laid awake in his bed listening to his dragons sing softly in a language he did not understand. The happiness he felt at meeting his new companions had been dulled by the stinging pain in his arms and his parents’ words. Hanzo no longer knew what to feel and it made him want to pull at his hair and scream until he keeled over._

_His dragons quieted as Hanzo’s bedroom door slowly opened, letting in a strip of light from the hallway. In the light, Hanzo spotted his mother. He quickly sat up in his bed and watched as she carefully approached his bed._

_The bed sunk slightly as Hanzo’s mother took a seat on the edge. “How are they?” she asked, gesturing to his tattoo._

_“Perfect,” Hanzo whispered._

_His mother nodded and a short silence followed. “Will you sleep here?” he asked her._

_There was no response to Hanzo’s question. “I will give you my pillow so that it is more comfortable,” he offered._

_His mother slowly sank down until she was laying on the soft pillow. Hanzo scooted her his own pillow, as promised. His mother was positioned so that her head was facing away from him. Acting quickly, Hanzo pulled his comforter over the both of them and gently tucked his mother in. Still, she was silent._

_“If you do not want to look at me, I can sleep on the floor,” he said. “I do not mind. I want you to be comfortable.”_

_“I’m leaving,” his mother suddenly said. “I’m leaving Hanamura.”_

_Hanzo gaped at her. “What do you mean?”_

_His mother moved to get up. “I can no longer stay here. I came to tell you goodbye.”_

_Hanzo tried to quickly scoot closer to her, but his mother was already out of arm’s reach. “What did I do wrong? Whatever it is, I --”_

_“It’s not you, Hanzo.”_

_Hanzo growled and surged to the edge of his bed, reaching for his legs. “You’re lying!” he yelled hysterically. “Tell me what I did!”_

_“Hanzo, you must keep your voice down. You have done nothing.”_

_Hanzo sobbed. “Should I have done something, then? Please. I will do better, please.”_

_A tear ran down his mother’s cheek. “I love you,” she choked out. To Hanzo, it sounded forced, as if she would vomit if she had to say those three words to him again._

_“You don’t,” he said. “You don’t love me. Nobody loves me. I’m a monster.”_

_His mother was already at the door. Hanzo loosened his grip on his legs, letting them fall to the ground, forgotten. “Your dragons will protect you,” his mother said._

_Then, she was gone. In the morning, assassins were dispatched to locate and terminate the rogue member of the Shimada clan. That was the last time Hanzo had ever seen his mother._

* * *

Like the week before, Hanzo awoke with a jolt from the neurosensors stuck to his head. As soon as he became conscious, Angela hurried into the dim room with a glass of water in hand. She offered the water to Hanzo -- which he gratefully accepted -- and began removing the sensors from his scalp in silence.

Once Hanzo was detached from the machine, Angela waved him to come and sit with her on the tan couch placed against the opposite wall. Hanzo followed and plopped down onto the soft cushion next to the doctor.

“Well,” Angela said with a sigh. “I proceeded to a memory further along in you aging process. It occured on your thirteenth birthday.”

Hanzo nodded. “I know it.”

“What are your feelings regarding it?”

Hanzo thought for a moment. “I suppose, in many ways, ‘abandoned’ would be the proper word to describe my feelings towards it.”

“In what ways did you feel abandoned?”

Gritting his teeth, Hanzo looked away. “Well, for one, my mother left me.”

Angela nodded and motioned for him to continue. “And I felt as if my father abandoned me as well, although I do not know how, for he did not leave me as my mother did.”

“He broke your trust,” Angela said. “He abandoned your feelings. I’d say that is a sufficient word to describe his actions.”

Hanzo grunted and shrugged his shoulders.

“Do you ever find yourself having suicidal thoughts?”

Hanzo glared. “What kind of question is that?”

“The kind of question your therapist needs an answer to,” Angela replied.

“I do not see what you would do with this information.”

Angela frowned. “Hanzo, if this is going to work, I need you to trust me. I cannot and will not share this information with any other agent.”

“Why am I having trouble believing that?”

“Because who has ever given you a reason to trust them? Hanzo, I need to know how intense your feelings are before I decide on your prescription.”

Hanzo looked down to the ground and scoffed. “Prescription for what?”

“Antidepressants.”

“I do not need them.”

Angela placed a hand on his shoulder. “How often do you have suicidal thoughts?” she asked again.

“Everyday,” Hanzo said with a wave of his hand, brushing his statement off.

She nodded and turned to type something on her tablet. “Do you need to go to stay at a mental health facility?”

“No, I will not act on these thoughts.”

“Will you lay your head down on my lap?” Angela asked as she placed a couch pillow on top of her legs.

“What?”

Angela gently guided Hanzo’s head down onto the pillow, and Hanzo followed along without complaint. She carefully untied his hair ribbon and began lightly stroking his raven locks. Hanzo melted into the touch, curling his legs comfortably on the other half of the couch. “What are you doing?” he whispered.

Angela shushed him softly. “You deserve to be treated with kindness.”

Hanzo did not reply and instead focused on the doctor’s touch. He had not realized how much he would love the gentle feeling of another playing with his hair. Tears formed in his eyes and he began to shake.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Angela mumbled, scratching his scalp. “It’s okay.”

Hanzo shook his head. “I keep crying. I do so often since I’ve come here. I do not know what is wrong with me.”

“You’re depressed, Hanzo,” Angela said. “You need medication.”

“I hate the thought of that.”

“Why?”

“It makes me feel inadequate, like a failure.”

Angela cradled his head. “Half the agents here are on similar medications and the other half are optimistic to an unreal degree. Medication is normal, Hanzo. You are not a failure.”

“Is Agent McCree?”

Angela raised an eyebrow. “I cannot answer that, but may I ask why you want to know about him specifically?”

Hanzo was unsure himself about what prompted him to inquire about McCree’s mental health. He voiced this confusion, following it with, “I suppose I just hope he does not have to take such medications.”

Angela took a break from stroking Hanzo’s hair to write a few things on her tablet. “It is kind that you care for him.”

“Why would I not?”

“Because he is rude to you.”

Hanzo nodded. “As he should be. Yesterday, he voiced his reasoning behind his behavior which I appreciated greatly.”

Frowning, Angela slouched back against the couch cushion. “He should not be rude to you. You deserve to be around people who treat you right.”

At her words, Hanzo was reminded of another distressing memory and he felt his stomach churn. “May we end this session? I am not feeling well.”

Angela studied his face and nodded. “I cannot keep you prisoner. But before you leave, please know that I will have your prescription ready tomorrow. I will give you further instructions when you arrive to pick it up.”

Hanzo nodded and stood up. He made it halfway to the door before Angela stopped him once more. “And another thing,” she said. “Winston told me that he has a mission ready for you. It is nothing big, but your first mission nonetheless. You should meet with him as soon as you can.”

Once more, Hanzo nodded and made his way to the door. “And one more thing,” Angela said. Hanzo sighed and turned to her. “I want you to attend Hana’s movie night tonight. It will be good for you.”

With a grunt, Hanzo turned and left, heading towards Winston’s office.  



	7. Saw XVI: The Social Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is kind of a filler chapter, but it's a nice break from all of the sad! No warnings this time except for maybe some brief, non-graphic mentions of violence.
> 
> As always, thank you for your support!!

Hanzo massaged his temples as he made his way up the stairs to Winston’s office. The therapy session with Angela went as well as he had expected: nothing had exploded and he was still alive. He wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to discussing his traumas; it was new to him and made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable. Hanzo considered telling Angela to put an end to the sessions, but, if he was being honest, he enjoyed his time spent with the doctor. The attention and kindness she showed him made him feel secure in the midst of the oftentimes painful and confusing proceedings of his life. Hanzo found himself wanting to make Angela happy; he felt that he had done nothing to return the doctor’s kindness and generosity thus far. The last thing he wanted was for Angela to feel that he was taking advantage of her services. If she were to feel such a way, she would almost certainly leave him behind, and Hanzo will have lost his only friend. Hanzo supposed he could repay Angela by continuing with his sessions and trying to complete the assignments she gave him to his best ability, making her proud. He also figured that he should perhaps buy Angela a small gift that accurately displays his gratitude. 

Nonetheless, Hanzo definitely needed something to distract him from thinking of his past, and, in his mind, there was no better distraction than discussing the logistics of his first mission. He soundlessly approached the open door to Winston’s office and knocked on the metal doorframe. Winston, who had been hovering over a circular contraption on his desk which resembled Tracer’s chronal accelerator, looked over at Hanzo. Setting down a small screwdriver, the gorilla motioned for Hanzo to enter. 

“Hello, Agent Shimada,” Winston said. “Please, have a seat.”

Hanzo nodded and sat in a large chair in front of Winston’s work desk. Winston cleared some tools off of the surface and replaced them with small stacks of paper. “Details regarding your mission,” he explained, gesturing towards the paper. “Before you came in, I was working on some upgrades for Agent Tracer’s chronal accelerator. As is, Tracer can only blink and recall so a few times before the accelerator must recharge. I’m trying to see if there is any way that those boundaries can be pushed so that-- oh, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Winston lowered his glasses to examine a few of the papers. “Right,” he continued. “So, have you heard the news of the attacks in Rialto?”

“Yes, Agent Amari was kind enough to show me a video of the incident,” Hanzo replied. “Am I correct to assume that my mission has something to do with that?”

Winston smiled, and Hanzo found his huge, incredibly sharp teeth somewhat unsettling. “That would be correct. I would like to get to the bottom of why this assassin is exterminating leaders of major crime families. I suspect Talon.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “Why would Talon--”

Winston held up a finger to silence him. “I know, I know. Why would Talon assassinate their own allies? But watch this.”

Winston picked up a small remote and pressed a few buttons. One of the screens to Hanzo’s left lit up, and a video with a small timestamp in the bottom left corner began playing. Hanzo assumed that it was surveillance footage from Rialto.

As the video progressed, a figure in all white and wearing a hooded assassin’s cloak quickly passed across the screen; he was so fast that Hanzo almost missed him. The screen shifted to a different security camera, and the same white figure came into view. This time, the figure stopped and took a moment to look around. There was a guard on the far side of the screen, and, having spotted him, the assassin quickly approached and inserted something into the guard’s neck. In a matter of seconds, the guard slumped to the floor. Everything happened so quickly that Hanzo almost could not believe his eyes; it was almost as if the figure was floating, soundless and flawless. The perfect assassin. 

Then, the figure ran to the side of a building and half-climbed, half-glided up the brick wall, out of view of the surveillance cameras. The footage was suddenly cut off with the image of a decorated, purple skull. Winston turned off the screen.

“That purple skull at the end is the icon of--”

Hanzo nodded. “Sombra.”

Winston stared at him for a moment, making Hanzo awkwardly shift his gaze to the floor. “I’ve done my research,” Hanzo explained.

“Right, so this assassin and Sombra were clearly working together, but what’s odd about this is the fact that Sombra didn’t clear the surveillance footage after she hacked it, like she normally does. This is messy work on her part. Something strange is going on here, and I want to know what Talon is up to.”

“When do I move out and what precautions should I take?” Hanzo asked.

“Well,” Winston began, “It won’t just be you. Agent McCree is familiar with the Rialto area.”

“Excellent. He will be a great addition.”

“And Agent Zenyatta.”

Hanzo paused for a moment. “Why...Zenyatta?”

“We always try to assign a medic, just in case. Ana is training Lucio on more battle medic tactics, for his own tactics are effective but could be improved upon, and Angela has made a point that she would like to be the permanent on-site doctor from now on. She no longer wants to fight. That leaves Zenyatta, who is a fully capable medic.”

Hanzo imagined that it would be hard to remain undercover with an omnic in their group, but he supposed that they would have to make do. “When do we move out?” he asked.

“8 a.m. on Friday. I will have your cover aliases and outfits ready by then.” 

Hanzo got up from the oversized chair and nodded. “Thank you. I will pass on the information to Agents McCree and Zenyatta if I see them.”

Winston gave Hanzo a toothy grin once more. “Thank you.”

Hanzo left Winston’s office and made his way back to his own quarters. He slid his shoes off by the door and allowed himself to fall back onto his bed with a sigh. With his meeting with Winston out of the way, Hanzo was reminded of the stressor that had been on his mind for the past two days: movie night. He wondered if he should go even if he knew that Angela would be disappointed if he didn’t show. He imagined that McCree would be frustrated as well, since he was the first to invite Hanzo. 

Although, now that he thought of it, Hana had not invited Hanzo, and seeing that this was her event, it would perhaps be rude to show up. Hanzo could not imagine that anyone actually wanted him there anyway. He guessed that he would ruin their fun by making them nervous with his presence. With a nod, Hanzo decided that he would not go after all. He curled up on the side of his bed, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and pervasive emptiness at his decision.

“Go,” Hanzo heard a soothing voice whisper in his head. “Go,” a second voice followed. Hanzo gasped and stared at his tattoo. It had been years since his dragons had spoken to him, and he feared that their connection had been slightly severed. Hearing their voices now was like seeing a pool of cool water in an endless desert. He tried desperately to hold on to the sounds. 

“Go where?” he asked back, hoping they would respond.

“To the party,” they said in unison. Hanzo gaped for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter. He hugged his tattooed arm to his chest and shrugged.

“If that is what you two want.”

* * *

Hanzo slipped into the dimly-lit rec room unnoticed. Most of the room’s occupants sat on blankets and pillows close to the large flat-screen television mounted on the middle of the far wall. Remote in hand, Hana was clicking through a list of horror movies faster than Hanzo could keep track of. He wondered how she could possibly get an idea of the movies she was passing over at such a speed. Lucio, Tracer, Mei, and Zenyatta sat on the floor, nearest to the television. Crammed on the couch behind them were Ana, Jack, Genji, and Angela. Jack was holding a bowl of popcorn and munching it down by the handful. Hanzo noticed that Genji was not wearing his faceplate and was dressed in a black t-shirt and sweatpants. He was glad that his brother had found a group of people that he was so comfortable being around.

Hanzo looked back to his left and saw that McCree sat alone, stretched out across a small couch in the corner of the room. After meeting his eyes, McCree sat up and waved him over.

“You actually came,” McCree said as Hanzo approached. 

Hanzo sat to the left of himself, putting a considerable distance between their bodies. “It seems I have.”

Just then, Hanzo heard Ana groan from the front of the room. “Just pick one, Hana.”

“Just wait! I need to find a good one.”

Beside Hanzo, McCree chuckled. “She always takes forever to decide on a movie,” he mumbled to Hanzo.

Hanzo smiled and leaned back against the cushion. “Choosing films for group viewing is an art, it seems.”

“How about this one?” Hana suddenly asked, stopping the screen on _Saw XVI_. The cover of the film displayed blood splatters and a small white puppet with dark hair and red swirls on his cheeks riding a tricycle. 

“It certainly seems violent,” Zenyatta remarked.

“Why not,” Jack said. Hana clicked play and took her seat on the ground next to Lucio. 

Reinhardt came booming into the room before the movie finished loading, drawing everyone’s attention with his loud footfalls. “Sorry I am late!” he said and went to find a seat. After looking away from Reinhardt, Hanzo saw Angela notice him and throw back a wave. Hanzo waved back.

“Nice to see you ‘n Ang gettin’ along,” McCree said.

Hanzo nodded. “Yes, I am incredibly grateful that she has offered me her therapeutic services. She is very kind.”

McCree smiled. “She sure is.” Then, he leaned closer to whisper in Hanzo’s ear. Hanzo felt his body go stiff. “Watch your brother.”

Hanzo shifted his gaze to Genji’s back. After a moment, his brother lifted his arms in a yawn. On the way down, one of Genji’s arms wrapped around Angela’s shoulders and rested there. Hanzo gasped and looked at McCree. “Are they...together?”

“Not yet, I don’t think. You’re brother’s real sweet on her, though.”

Hanzo felt genuine happiness rise in his chest. He was relieved to know that his brother still possessed the confidence to pursue a love life. “I am glad,” Hanzo whispered with a soft smile.

“Move over, little ones!” Reinhardt said to them as he trudged over to the couch McCree and Hanzo sat on. Hanzo hastily scooched closer to McCree as the giant of a man plopped down beside him. When he sat, the entire couch sank with his weight, and Hanzo soon found himself sandwiched between McCree and Reinhardt’s bodies, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

McCree’s head clunked against Hanzo’s as he slid into him, and Hanzo’s head came to rest against Reinhardt’s bicep. All three of their thighs were pressed tightly together, and Hanzo tried to wish away the dark blush that was creeping over his face. To avoid all but laying on top of Reinhardt, Hanzo tried to squirm closer to McCree, but the cowboy’s weight against him was making it difficult. McCree let out a loud laugh and reached an arm behind Hanzo to tap Reinhardt on the shoulder.

“Hey, big guy,” McCree said. “You’re kinda squishing us here.”

“Ah?” Reinhardt said, looking over at Hanzo and McCree. “Oh! I’m sorry, my friends! I guess this couch is a tad too small.”

The large man got up and walked off to sit on the floor beside the rest of his teammates. Without Reinhardt’s weight pulling him downward, Hanzo found himself toppling over, his chest landing stretched across McCree’s lap. Hanzo sputtered and rushed to correct himself. He quickly planted his hands to regain balance and pushed himself up.

“Oof! Hanzo,” McCree gasped. Hanzo looked down and noticed that he had planted one of his hands right on McCree’s groin. Fast as a bullet, he shot away from the cowboy, putting as much distance between them as the couch would allow.

Hanzo felt his face heat up and figured it was probably as red as McCree’s serape. “I am so sorry,” he stammered. 

McCree gave a pained smile. “Nah, it’s okay. Just hurt a bit is all.”

Looking towards the door, Hanzo made a move to get up. He always did something wrong. He should have known better than to come here. He should have known that he would fuck something up. “I should...go.”

McCree gently grabbed his arm. “Whoa there, Hanzo. It’s okay. Really. The movie’s barely started. You should stay.”

Hanzo stared at the cowboy for a moment, studying his face. From McCree’s raised eyebrows to his small smile, everything about him seemed sincere. Looking over at the television screen, Hanzo saw that the movie was still in its opening sequence, credits slowly fading in over gory images and torture contraptions. Hanzo sighed and nodded, leaning back against the cushions once more. 

The screen faded to black, and then a frantic omnic woman suddenly entered the frame with what looked like an open bear trap over her head. The strange puppet that had been on the movie cover gave the omnic a series of directions that would enable her to save her life. The omnic hastily tried to complete the orders, but ultimately ran out of time, and the bear trap closed over her head, short-circuiting her.

“Ah, I get it now,” Zenyatta said from the front of the room. “That was a metaphor for the disturbed mind. Her lack of calmness ultimately led to her demise, represented by the bear trap. Such powerful imagery.”

“That’s pretty deep,” Lucio remarked. “But I just think her head exploded.”

“I think it’s a metaphor for the pressure of conforming to female beauty standards,” Hana said with a chuckle.

“Well I think it’s a metaphor for updog,” Genji said.

“What is ‘updog?’” Hanzo asked. The whole room immediately erupted into delirious laughter and whooping. Hana even had to wipe a few tears from her eyes. Hanzo was dumbfounded.

McCree leaned closer to Hanzo. “Y’know, like ‘what’s up, dog?’” he whispered. 

“Oh. And that is...funny?”

“Hilarious.”

Hanzo snorted. “I see. Are they always like this?”

“Yup.”

Hanzo smiled to himself, and, as the room died back down, he felt himself become more and more relaxed. The dim room mixed with the dark lighting of the images on the screen allowed his eyes to comfortably droop. The quiet chatter of the people around him slowly morphed into whitenoise, and Hanzo found himself caring even less about the movie on screen, turning his full attention to how tired he truly was. He slumped to the side and allowed his eyes to fully close, telling himself that he would only rest for a moment. Before he knew it, he was asleep against McCree’s shoulder, the movie long forgotten.

* * *

When he awoke, the rec room was bright and empty. Hanzo assumed that he had slept through the night, making this Thursday morning. That left him one whole day to prepare for his mission. He groaned and cracked his back. Someone had been kind enough to provide him with a pillow, and, when Hanzo looked down, he saw that he had been covered with McCree’s red serape. For what seemed like the millionth time, Hanzo felt his face heat up. 

Hanzo moved to his feet and neatly folded the article of clothing. He wondered how McCree could still be so caring after his screw-up last night. In Hanzo’s mind, all he did was hit the cowboy in the junk and fall asleep. That did not seem to warrant kind treatment. Hanzo stared at the serape for a moment, lost in thought, before heading towards the dining hall to make himself some coffee. He kept the serape clutched gently to his chest, hoping and dreading that he would see McCree along the way.

  



	8. What is Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boop dee doo here's a chapter. Thanks for the comments, love ya!
> 
> This chapter and the next probably deal with topics that could be the most triggering although they are not graphic. If you think the warnings below will trigger you, skip the italicized parts! 
> 
> Warnings: domestic abuse, violence

"You deserve to be around people who treat you right.”

Angela’s words from their session yesterday echoed in Hanzo’s brain as he walked to pick up his medication. He could not help but imagine the words being uttered in a distinct voice from his past, one that he could never forget. The voice was deep yet sweet as sugared honey, full of loving promises. But a nervous shiver went down Hanzo’s spine at the sound. He could not rid himself of the disgusting taste that now filled his mouth, so he hurried his pace to Angela’s office.

His dosage was to start off small and then slowly increase, Angela explained to him after he arrived. Her face seemed like it was clouded with worry, and she was slow to extend her arm to hand Hanzo the medication. 

“What is wrong?” Hanzo asked her.

The doctor quickly replaced her worried expression with a smile. “There is a long half-life on these pills, so every once in a while, forgetting to take one will be okay, but try not to do so often. And try to take them with a full glass of water at around the same time everyday, okay? That might be hard with your busy schedule, but...”

Hanzo nodded. “Understood.”

“And you may feel...a bit worse before feeling better,” Angela said, wringing her hands. “But if things get to a point where they feel unbearable, promise you’ll let me know and we will alter your prescription. The side effects should never be that extreme.”

Hanzo looked down at the white paper bag in his hand that held his tube of medication. The paper had crumpled slightly where he had gripped it. “I promise. Thank you, doctor.”

* * *

_Hanzo was fifteen when he became involved with his first and only boyfriend. His name was Tetsuo Kobayashi and was introduced to Hanzo through one of Genji’s friends. In a rare instance when Hanzo participated in one of Genji’s many outings with his companions at the local arcade and ramen bars, Tetsuo took special interest in the older Shimada. He paid for Hanzo’s food and charmed him with his smile and kind words._

_He asked when he could see Hanzo again, and, feeling excited and flustered, Hanzo made sure to meet Tetsuo during his free time almost every evening. They ate together, talked about meaningless things, and had their first kiss outside of a sushi shop a block away from the Shimada castle. They began dating soon after._

_With his father frequently at work in the DoCoMo mobile network offices and his mother managing a local hotel catering to tourists, Tetsuo’s parents were rarely home. Hanzo and Tetsuo found themselves often spending time in Tetsuo’s living room. They told each other stories of their lives, watched movies, or simply made out until Hanzo had to return to the castle to fulfill his duties._

_His time with Tetsuo was a good distraction. Hanzo’s boyfriend expressed his interest in spending more and more time alone with Hanzo in lieu of going out to restaurants or shops. It made Hanzo feel special and cared for. When other guys or girls looked at Hanzo in public, he felt proud at feeling Tetsuo hold him closer. He was wanted._

_Weeks went by, and every evening Hanzo was elated to leave the Shimada castle and travel to his boyfriend’s home. Sometimes he brought snacks or gifts and other times he simply brought himself. Tetsuo was happy either way, and his happiness was contagious._

_One evening, as Tetsuo opened the door to let Hanzo in, Tetsuo’s neighbor, whom Hanzo had seen often in passing, smiled and waved. Hanzo waved back. As Hanzo closed the door behind him, he was shocked by a slap to his face. He gasped and clutched his cheek, staring at Tetsuo._

_“Are you cheating on me?” Tetsuo asked, not shouting but uttering his words in a firm, demanding voice._

_Shocked, Hanzo took a moment to respond. “No.”_

_He was slapped again, just as his father had hit him so many times before. “Don’t lie.”_

_“I’m not lying!” Hanzo yelled with his back to the door. “I wouldn’t cheat on you!”_

_Tetsuo’s expression softened and he took a few steps closer to Hanzo, his arms extended to comfort his boyfriend. “Oh, Hanzo, I’m sorry. It’s just...the way you looked at him…”_

_Hanzo accepted Tetsuo’s embrace. “I only waved.”_

_“And you smiled at him.” Tetsuo cradled Hanzo’s head to his chest. “You rarely smile at anyone but me.”_

_“I was only happy to be seeing you.”_

_Tetsuo smiled. “My love, you scared me. I will never lay a hand on you that way again.”_

_But that was the first of many times that Tetsuo lashed out. More frequently, his anger boiled over and showed Hanzo a different side of him, a side Hanzo had never thought possible. The next time Tetsuo hit him, Hanzo dropped a teacup to the floor, shattering it. The time after that, it was because Hanzo had tickled Tetsuo when he was not in the best of moods. The reasons slowly became more minor such as Hanzo being late to come to Tetsuo’s house or Hanzo spacing out while Tetsuo was talking to him. “We barely get to see each other, and you’re just going to ignore me,” Tetsuo would say, or, “I love you so much and you only take advantage of that.”_

_Every time, Hanzo felt guilty. Every time, Tetsuo promised that it would be the last. Every time, Hanzo forced himself to believe his boyfriend. “Who else will love you like I do?” Tetsuo said to him, not expecting an answer for Hanzo had none._

_Four months into their relationship, Hanzo was right on time to Tetsuo’s house. His boyfriend opened the door, handing Hanzo a dozen red roses with a bright smile. Hanzo smiled back and smelled the delightful scent. “What is the occasion?” he asked._

_“Of course you don’t know,” Tetsuo responded. “You don’t care.”_

_Tetsuo walked further into the house, and Hanzo followed him, closing the door. “Of course I care,” Hanzo said._

_“It’s our four-month anniversary,” Tetsuo said and then gestured at the table. “Here, I made you a nice dinner, too.”_

_Hanzo felt his heart sink. “Oh. I...I’m sorry.”_

_“‘Oh,’” Tetsuo mocked, waving for Hanzo to have a seat. Hanzo sat, setting the roses down beside him, and watched Tetsuo leave the room to retrieve the food. He came back with a plate full of Hanzo’s favorite dishes and some miso soup. “Here, happy anniversary,” Tetsuo said bitterly._

_Hanzo stared at the delicious food in front of him and felt tears build up in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again after a moment of silence._

_“Are you going to eat it or just cry all over it?”_

_Hanzo picked up a stick of yakitori and took a bite of the chicken. It was perfectly cooked and crisp. “It is very good,” Hanzo said._

_Tetsuo inhaled sharply before knocking the plate and the rest of its contents onto the floor, scattering the food everywhere. “Forget it,” Tetsuo said and walked away. Hanzo knew better than to engage with him when he was like this, but he could not help but feel sorry for hurting Tetsuo. He ran after his boyfriend._

_“Tetsuo, I love you, I’m sorry,” he said._

_Tetsuo sighed, his back to Hanzo. “You don’t,” he mumbled._

_“I do; I promise.” Hanzo gently rested his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders and guided him to the couch. “Sit with me. Please.”_

_Tetsuo sat down, and Hanzo cuddled up next to him. “You’re gorgeous, you know that? Everything about you is perfect, except maybe your nose and these,” Tetsuo said gesturing at Hanzo’s legs. “But I don’t care about those things. I love you anyway and I just want to know that you love me too.”_

_Hanzo did his best to refrain from feeling his nose and tracing its imperfections. “I love you with all of my heart,” he said. “You make me happy when my responsibilities bring me down. You are always there for me.”_

_Tetsuo smiled softly. “I’ll treat you better than all of those assholes out there. And you deserve to be around people who treat you right, people like me.”_

_In that moment, Hanzo questioned what ‘right’ meant. His whole life, he thought ‘right’ was kindness, was justice. But now, he no longer knew. Everybody around him equated rightness with pain and suffering, with violence. Perhaps he had been wrong all along. Perhaps this was the right way and he must simply embrace it no matter how wrong it felt in his bones. Perhaps he deserved his pain for ever doubting the methods of his elders, his clan, and now, his boyfriend. He was wrong, he is wrong, and he deserves to suffer for it._

* * *

Friday came, and Hanzo, McCree, and Zenyatta went to Winston's office to receive their assignments. They were to act as undercover agents making up a task force investigating the white-robed assassin in Rialto. Each of them were given fake badges, mirrored shades, dress shirts, ties, and slacks to wear along with cover names. Hanzo was Haru Sasaki, McCree Joel Morricone, and Zenyatta was Tenzin Trungpa. 

They were to meet with the surviving members of Antonio Giordani’s family who were now running Antonio’s company. From there, they could convince the Giordani’s to set up a honeypot trap with another high-ranking member of the family and lure in the assassin and capture him. Hanzo would be stationed as a sniper with eyes on the Giordani who volunteered to lure the assassin in, ready to strike and incapacitate when the time came. 

McCree’s hair was trimmed, and silicone prosthetics were attached to his nose and brow to alter their appearance. Hanzo was mostly left alone but had a prosthetic attached to his nose as well. “Will I get fake body parts as well?” Zenyatta questioned in the same monotone voice he always used. Hanzo wondered whether or not he was joking.

Genji and Angela came to see them off as they walked to the drop ship. Tracer greeted them as they arrived, assuring them that it would be a short and smooth flight. Winston stood back, rubbing his neck. “Zenyatta?”

“I am Tenzin now,” Zenyatta replied.

“Yes, well,” Winston coughed into his fist nervously. “I...I hope you don’t mind me asking, but could you maybe refrain from floating on this mission?”

“Certainly,” Zenyatta replied, slowly uncrossing his legs and letting them drift down to touch the ground.

“Woah!” Genji shouted. Everybody turned to him. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen him do that before.”

Zenyatta, moving slow as always, reached and pulled the shades of the pocket of his slacks. Hanzo noticed that two pieces of tape had been attached to the ends of the glasses, so, when Zenyatta put them on, they stuck to the metal of his head. “Do I look hip?” he asked in the same monotone voice.

“Of course, master,” Genji replied with no indication that the two were joking. Hanzo looked between Zenyatta and his brother, confusion evident on his face.

“Peace,” Zenyatta said, walking to the ship.

“Should he really be wearing those sunglasses?” Hanzo asked when Zenyatta was far enough away.

Winston shrugged. “He really wanted to match.”

McCree let out a booming laugh and Hanzo rubbed his temples. “Very well,” Hanzo said. “But if it draws attention to us, it is not on me.”

“Maybe we should match Zen and tape the glasses to our heads too,” McCree said with a chuckle. “Convince ‘em it’s some kinda fashion statement.”

Hanzo looked to McCree and rolled his eyes. McCree beamed down at him and Hanzo was taken aback at how gorgeous his smile truly was. It was slightly lopsided and made the cowboy’s crow’s feet prominent. Hanzo moved his gaze to McCree’s hair and noticed just how good it looked, trimmed, washed, and styled, without the stetson covering it. Hanzo wanted to run his fingers through the honey-brown locks, to feel their softness against his fingers. He wanted to run his hands through McCree’s beard, tracing his jaw. He wanted so many things.

But he simply turned his amazed stare to the ground. There were things in this world that he should not have, could not have, else they be tainted. He was a plague, destroying everything around him that is good. Hanzo recognized that even his presence at Gibraltar was a risk, something that could break apart this close-knit family of agents. He did not want that for McCree. He did not want to drag the cowboy down. McCree deserved happiness that Hanzo no longer knew how to provide. He deserved so much more. So Hanzo turned away and made his way to the ship, McCree close behind him.  



	9. The Fire Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Please read this for warnings!-
> 
> Hey here's another chapter! I was going to combine this chapter and the next one into one large chapter, but it was disproportionately longer than all of the other parts, so I split it up a little. Also, catch me giving Zenyatta lore of my own because he has none in canon lol.
> 
> Tiny reminder that this isn't beta read, so if you see something that makes no sense to you, you can let me know! I'd appreciate it and fix the problem in the text. 
> 
> I've read all the comments on the last chapter, and you all make me so happy. I'll reply to them asap.
> 
> Big warnings in this chapter, though. Feel free to skip the italicized part. Warnings for: abuse, violence/gore, sexual content, and dubious consent (although not a lot really happens, but the theme is present).

_Hanzo stuck by Tetsuo for three years. Time seemed to fly by as quick as an arrow flying to its mark, and before he knew it, Hanzo was eighteen. There was nothing that made him happier than one of Tetsuo’s good moods -- his boyfriend’s smiles and laughter, the loving gazes he would give Hanzo every now and then: it all never failed to make Hanzo’s heart flutter. In times of Tetsuo’s anger and painful vehemence, Hanzo thought of the good times. He remembered Tetsuo’s kindness and tenderness, and he reminded himself that, beneath the abuse, love was what had built their relationship._

_Although, as the years passed, Tetsuo’s good moods became rarer and harder to recall. Anger slowly possessed the man until there was little left, and Hanzo was the one who paid for it. So, when a good mood did surface, Hanzo treated it as a precious jewel and bathed in the richness of Tetsuo’s company, ecstatic. He took all he could from those good moods, milking them for all their worth. He and Tetsuo would talk, laugh, and joke; they would cuddle with one another and go out to dinner; they would take care of one another as couples should._

_After weeks of being slapped, kicked, punched, and yelled at, Hanzo returned one morning to a smiling Tetsuo. Seeing that smile made Hanzo so happy that he felt that, at that moment, he could have fallen to the ground and broke out into sobs. It made the pain all worth it to see his boyfriend happy and knowing that the happiness was all for him. Hanzo’s mind told him that this was the only good he would get from his life so he should not waste it, although his dragons passionately disagreed. Hanzo ignored the blue creatures beneath his skin and their cries that this was not what love should be feel like. It felt right to him._

_Tetsuo met him on the sidewalk in front of his house, and he pulled Hanzo into a soft embrace. Hanzo melted into the hold, wanting no distance between him and his boyfriend. He felt fingers slide through his hair, gently massaging his scalp, and Hanzo sighed happily._

_“Hanzo, my father is home,” Tetsuo whispered into his ear._

_Hanzo forced himself to detach from his boyfriend. “Now?”_

_Tetsuo nodded. “He wants me to stay here and help him around the house with some projects. I won’t be free until later tonight.”_

_Hanzo frowned. “How late?”_

_Shrugging, Tetsuo looked back towards his home. “Likely not until he decides to go to bed.”_

_“Could you sneak out tonight?”_

_Tetsuo hummed his approval at the idea. “And go where?”_

_Smiling suddenly, Hanzo reached for Tetsuo’s hand. Tetsuo pulled away. “You can come to the castle. I can sneak you in. My bedroom is only on the second floor, and there is a window in the hallway by a tree. We could get through the gates, and I’ll leave the window unlocked. It will be simple.”_

_Tetsuo was silent for a moment. “That sounds dangerous.”_

_“I know my way around the walls of the castle grounds like I know the back of my hand. And nobody ever enters my room. I will not let anything happen.”_

_After awhile, Tetsuo finally nodded. Hanzo’s smile grew as he and his boyfriend decided on a meeting place outside of the castle walls, and afterwards Hanzo returned home to make sure that his plan could be enacted smoothly and without error._

* * *

_Hanzo stocked his room with snacks and a bit of alcohol he had swiped from the kitchen while the cooks had their backs turned, and he made sure there were enough blankets and pillows for he and Tetsuo to be comfortable. After everything was set up and the sun had set, Hanzo climbed down through the hallway window and set out to wait at the corner of the street by Tetsuo’s home -- their meeting place. An hour passed before Tetsuo arrived, smiling. Hanzo was overjoyed that his good mood had lasted._

_Hanzo led his boyfriend to a patch of dirt that burrowed under the right wall of the castle, covered by a layer of brush. First Hanzo and then Tetsuo shimmied through the hole and to the inside of the castle grounds. The two stuck to the shadows as they approached the main building of the castle. Hanzo silently motioned towards the tree with a branch that stuck out towards the second-floor window. They pulled themselves up the trunk and through the window that Hanzo left unlatched._

_Once in the dark hallway, Hanzo paused for a moment, blocking Tetsuo from view with his body, fearing he had heard footsteps against the hardwood floor. Once a minute had passed and Hanzo heard no further noise, he grabbed Tetsuo’s hand and quickly led him a few feet down the hall and through his bedroom door. Once inside, Hanzo closed the door behind him, breathing out a sigh of relief._

_Tetsuo looked at him, laughing nervously. “We made it.”_

_Hanzo smiled. “I knew we would. I brought us snacks and --”_

_Hanzo did not even finish his sentence before Tetsuo crowded up against him and brought his lips to Hanzo’s neck, kissing and sucking the tender flesh._

_“Oh,” Hanzo gasped, surprised. He guided Tetsuo’s lips further down to his shoulder. “Not too high. My father will --”_

_Tetsuo grabbed his wrists and pinned them against his sides, resuming biting and sucking higher up Hanzo’s neck and towards his jawline. “Wait, Tetsuo, if my father sees he will hurt me. Please.”_

_Tetsuo didn’t seem like he was listening as he continued leaving visible marks. Hanzo began backing away, but Tetsuo’s body followed until the backs of his knees hit the bed and Hanzo feel back onto the mattress. Tetsuo smiled down at him before slowly taking a seat beside Hanzo, petting his hair. “You know, Hanzo,” he began, “now would be the perfect time to finally take things to the next level.”_

_Hanzo sat up. “We have done many things.”_

_“But you’ve never had, like, actual sex with me,” Tetsuo said, his frown returning. Hanzo hated to see that frown._

_“I am…nervous,” Hanzo explained, hoping Tetsuo would leave it at that._

_“You’re eighteen,” Tetsuo said. “Don’t be a child.”_

_“I am...I am not...ready.”_

_Tetsuo scoffed. “We’ve been together for three fucking years, Hanzo. If you’re not ready soon, I’ll find someone who is. I’m getting tired of half-assed blowjobs.”_

_“I thought we could just…”_

_“What? Sit here?” Tetsuo finished with a sneer._

_“I…” Tetsuo’s hand on his shoulder slowly guided him back down to the mattress. “You will stay if I…?”_

_“Yeah. I’ll stay.”_

_Hanzo nodded. “Okay. I just...please just...I…” He was silenced by Tetsuo’s lips crashing to his own and a tongue being shoved down his throat. Hanzo moved his shaky hands to Tetsuo’s back, pulling him closer as Tetsuo began unbuttoning his pants. Tetsuo removed his pants and underwear, tossing them behind him. Hanzo reached down to unlatch his synthetic legs, but Tetsuo grabbed his wrists again._

_“What are you doing?” he asked Hanzo._

_“Taking off my--”_

_“Why?”_

_“So I can be more com--”_

_“No,” Tetsuo said. “Keep them on. Nobody wants to see that.”_

_Suddenly, Hanzo let out a gasp of pain as Tetsuo shoved a finger inside of him._

_“That hurts!” he yelled._

_Tetsuo looked down at him. “This is what you’re supposed to do, Hanzo.”_

_“You need to use lube!”_

_“Can you be quieter?” Tetsuo barked as he pulled his finger out. Hanzo watched him look around the room for something to use as a lubricant, and, after finding nothing, he simply rubbed some spit over his fingers and this time inched two fingers into his boyfriend, slower than before._

_Hanzo let out another gasp of pain. “What is it now?” Tetsuo asked._

_“Nothing,” Hanzo whispered, closing his eyes tightly and bracing himself for the third finger. But it never came._

_Hanzo felt something warm drip onto his closed eyelids and run down his cheeks. When he opened his eyes again, he saw blood dripping from Tetsuo’s mouth as he stared beyond Hanzo. Hanzo quickly sat up and grabbed his boyfriend’s cheeks._

_“Are you okay?! What is wrong?!” he asked desperately before looking down and noticing the metal blade protruding from Tetsuo’s heart. When the blade was suddenly withdrawn, thick blood sprayed Hanzo, soaking through his clothes as Tetsuo’s body fell against him._

_Hanzo screamed and clutched his boyfriend’s body, chanting a mantra of “no’s” and “please’s.” When the Shimada guard who had delivered the blow pulled the body from Hanzo’s grasp, Hanzo sunk to the ground and vomited. He reached for Tetsuo as the guard carrying the body and the shadowy silhouette his father left his room. Hanzo’s breath came in heavy gasps as consciousness slipped away from him._

* * *

_He woke with a sharp intake of breath in a puddle of blood and vomit. His dragons were sending loving messages, but he pushed them down. Hanzo stood, mindlessly, pulled his pants back on, and stumbled along the trail of blood that led out of his room._

_His vision was clouded. All he saw was the blood. He followed it for what seemed like ages. Down the hall. Up some stairs. And so on._

_There was a hand on his shoulder. Hanzo looked, but it was only Genji. He kept following the blood._

_Genji did not let go. He guided Hanzo away, and Hanzo let out a sob, fighting against his brother’s grip._

_Genji picked him up and carried him to another room. From that room, there was a bathroom. The light was blinding._

_Letting Hanzo down, Genji shut the door and began running a bath. Hanzo watched him._

_“Can these get wet?” Genji asked, pointing at Hanzo’s legs._

_Hanzo nodded._

_“Do you want them on?”_

_Hanzo nodded._

_Genji filled the bath and turned the water off. Small puffs of steam rose from the surface and up towards the ceiling._

_“Do you want to get undressed?”_

_Hanzo nodded and began pulling his clothes off with unsteady hands. Genji turned away and got a towel ready for him. Once undressed, Hanzo stepped into the water and sank down until it reached just below his chin. Genji kneeled back down beside him._

_“There’s blood all over you. Why?” Genji asked._

_“Is this a dream?” Hanzo asked._

_Genji shook his head, and Hanzo turned away. “I killed him,” he whispered. “I killed him.”_

_“Who?”_

_Hanzo didn’t answer and began roughly scrubbing the dried blood and vomit from his arms. Genji grabbed a washcloth and rubbed some of the blood specks from his cheeks. The water was soon stained a brownish red._

_Genji’s hand moved to the hickies on his neck. “What happened?” he asked again. “Please, Hanzo.”_

_“I loved him,” Hanzo said._

_“It will...be okay,” Genji said, staring and seemingly at a loss. Genji moved his hand to wash Hanzo’s shoulder, his fingers brushing the scar of his brother’s brand. The younger Shimada’s eyes became wider still._

_“Oh, brother,” he whispered. “What did they do?”_

_Hanzo suddenly whirled around to face Genji. “How? How did you get your dragon?” he demanded._

_Genji stared in shock for a moment before answering. “I...I meditated on the Shimada crest until my meditation took me to a field. It was pretty boring.”_

_Hanzo gripped his hair and screamed in frustration. He felt fury rise in and spread through his veins. It was like nothing he had ever experienced, and he almost felt that, at that moment, he could breathe fire. He wanted to train, to fight, to do anything that would let him release this overwhelming anger. “FUCK!” he yelled and grabbed a shampoo bottle. “FUCKING SHIT!”_

_He launched the bottle at the closest thing to him: Genji. Genji held his hands out in front of him and braced himself as bottle after bottle hit him square in the chest, and soon his little brother retreated from the room. Hanzo looked over the room, the floor now sprayed with colorful, slimy shampoos and soaps. He growled and unplugged the drain before stomping out of the bath, careful not to slip. He wrapped the towel his brother had set out around himself and trudged from the room ready to punch anyone who came near him, dragons writhing under his skin._  
  


* * *

“I sense within you the same rage that once consumed your brother.”

Hanzo’s thoughts were interrupted by the omnic who sat a few seats away from him on the dropship. He refused to grant Zenyatta a look.

“We are nothing alike,” he replied with a growl.

“What has you upset?” Zenyatta asked from the other side of McCree. Hanzo noticed the cowboy look between the two as they talked.

“I am to spend my first mission working undercover with a robot and Agent McCree whom, I have _just noticed,_ has decided to wear his spurs!”

McCree chuckled. “A’right, a’right, I’ll take ‘em off.”

“You did it only to annoy me!” Hanzo sighed.

Zenyatta was facing Hanzo with his arms crossed, and if the omnic had eyes, Hanzo assumed he would be glaring. Hanzo raised an eyebrow, finding it hard to take Zenyatta seriously while sunglasses were taped to his head. “Yes?” Hanzo asked.

“I am sorry - _beep boop beep -_ I cannot process the question. I am but a robot.”

Hanzo scoffed. “You have sense. How can you believe this is a good idea?”

Zenyatta stopped to think for a moment. “I assume my presence serves two important purposes: to distract from you and McCree’s work and to heal what has been hurt. My appearance is a means to distract and, if I am lacking, I will do my best to heal.”

Hanzo shifted his frustrated gaze to the ground, unwilling to admit that Zenyatta’s statement made a lot of sense. 

Just then, Tracer shouted back at them from the cockpit. “Alright, gang, we’ll be arriving fairly soon and we have a car waiting to take you into the city. Buckle up for landing!”

Hanzo sighed and fastened his seatbelt. McCree leaned closer to him, causing Hanzo to stiffen. “But really, what’sa matter, Hanzo?” he asked. “You seem kinda spacey.”

“That is nothing to concern yourself with,” Hanzo snarled, scooting himself further away from McCree until he was almost on the edge of his seat. McCree nodded and backed away then, but Hanzo noticed that the cowboy’s worried gaze never left him.

They hit a bit of turbulence as the ship descended, rattling the three passengers in their seats. Once landed, McCree, Hanzo, and Zenyatta unbuckled themselves and adjusted their disguises, assuring that their guns -- or in Zenyatta’s case, orbs -- were properly hidden. The car ride to Rialto was only an hour, leaving the three plenty of time to locate Selina Giordani, the new head honcho of the Giordani family. 

They found her where the townspeople said she frequented: a five-star restaurant in the heart of Rialto. She ate alone as the taper candle placed in the middle of the table burned slowly. Selina seemed to be far from her first glass of wine when the three of them arrived and convened at her table. Without waiting for them to speak, Selina rose from her chair and set off to the back of the restaurant, motioning for them to follow. After all sharing a look, they did.

Selina led them to a private room off of the restaurant’s kitchen. The room was dim and had a larger round table in its center, covered with a spotless white tablecloth. “This is where we meet,” Selina said, words slurring, as she sat down.

McCree looked at Hanzo and raised an eyebrow, and Hanzo gave him a shrug in return. “Pretty nice setup,” McCree said, taking a seat next to Selina. Zenyatta and Hanzo followed suit.

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” Selina replied. “What do you want?”

McCree smiled. “Straight to the point, huh?”

“We are agents making up a task force with the goal of finding your brother’s killer and bringing that person to justice,” Hanzo said. “Agents Joel, Tenzin, and Haru at your service.”

Selina laughed and leaned against McCree’s shoulder. McCree looked taken aback as she began running a hand through his gelled hair. “So what will you do?” she asked.

Hanzo watched her and McCree, feeling something hot rise in his chest. He cleared his throat. “We wish to --”

“I want to hear Joel say it,” Selina interrupted, giggling.

“Err, okay,” McCree said. He rubbed the back of his neck and Selina leaned closer. “We wanna set up a lil trap for the assassin. Get one of the Giordani’s to lure ‘em in and then Haru here will catch ‘em.”

Selina stood, grabbing McCree’s hand and pulling him along. “Sounds good. My cousin can be the bait,” she said. Then, after a moment, she turned back to Hanzo and Zenyatta as if just remembering their presence. “Let’s go.”

Selina led McCree out of the restaurant, keeping him close with an arm linked through his. Zenyatta and Hanzo followed close behind on the Rialto streets. The sun was beating down, but the air was cooled ever so slightly by the breeze from the canals. Hanzo kept an eye on Selina’s back as they walked.

“You seem distressed,” Zenyatta quietly remarked.

“It is nothing,” Hanzo growled back. 

Zenyatta hummed.

“She is very touchy for just meeting him, no?” Hanzo said to the omnic.

“I sense jealousy.”

Hanzo gawked at him. “I am not--!” McCree and Selina shot Hanzo a look as they walked causing a blush to rise in Hanzo’s cheeks. When they turned away, Hanzo resumed, quieter. “I am simply stating that it is strange.”

“Perhaps,” Zenyatta mused.

“He is too good for her,” Hanzo said as McCree began rubbing Selina’s shoulder.

“And for you?” Zenyatta asked.

Hanzo scoffed. “Much too good.”

Zenyatta suddenly slowed his pace, forcing Hanzo to take shorter strides to match him. “McCree is far from a perfect being. We all have our flaws.”

“Is your flaw that you are a fratricidal murderer?” Hanzo spat.

“My greatest flaw is that I was built by Null Sector to help carry out their mission. My greatest triumph was being courageous enough to leave and find my own path.”

Hanzo gaped. “You were…in…?”

Zenyatta nodded. “We cannot help the situation that we are born into, but we can learn to keep ourselves. You have murdered, have done unspeakable things, but that is not who you are. I can tell. McCree was once in the Deadlock gang. Perhaps it would do you well to talk to him about it.”

“It...is too hard to stop believing that he is someone who could be with...who could _ever_ be with me. I do not deserve his kindness.”

Zenyatta rested a hand on Hanzo’s back. “You do, and you will get there.”

Hanzo huffed and looked at the brick road below him. “Alright, we’re here!” Selina said suddenly gesturing at the mansion before her. It was a magnificent building with high stone pillars and statues of gargoyles and Greek antiquity lining the walls. She buzzed in through the front entrance and led them through the wooden double doors into the breathtaking foyer. The room’s ceiling reached high, and the glass chandelier in the center shone wherever the sunlight from the long windows touched it.

Selina held down the button for the home’s loudspeaker and leaned down towards it. “Dante! Come down to the door! I want to talk about something.”

After a moment, a large man in a pinstriped suit skittered down the white marble stairs. As he stood before Selina, he glared at the three unfamiliar faces before him. “Who are you?” he demanded.

Selina spoke up for them. “These are people who will catch Giovanni’s killer.”

“Ah,” Dante said. “Giovanni was a good brother to Selina and a good cousin to me. His murder was unjust. He had two sons, you know? Now they are fatherless. It is a tragedy what has happened here.”

“And on the day of my daughter’s wedding,” McCree whispered into Hanzo’s ear in a terrible Italian accent. Hanzo held back a laugh.

“Will you help us?” Selina asked. 

Dante nodded. “I will do what I can to catch this killer.”

“He’ll be sleepin’ with the fishes,” McCree whispered into Hanzo’s ear again. Hanzo elbowed him while biting his lip to stifle his chuckling.

“What should I do?” Dante asked.

Hanzo looked to him. “We would like you to appear in public as often as possible today. Act like you are undergoing important business. We will tail you while keeping a close eye. If the assassin is still here, it will likely attract his attention. As night falls, we will have you walk outside of the mansion grounds alone. Hopefully, that will bring the assassin to action, and, as we keep a close eye, we will catch him before he strikes you.”

Dante nodded. “I will do this. I trust that you will keep me safe. Let us move out and then wait for nightfall.”

“Bada-bing-bada-boom,” McCree whispered to Hanzo. A bark of laughter escaped Hanzo before his hands flew to cover his mouth, eyes darting between the Giordani’s who now stared at him.

“Sorry,” Hanzo said. “I do not know what came over me.”

Selina’s gaze slowly left him as she turned back to her cousin. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s start as soon as possible. I will stay here.” Then she turned to the three of them, specifically meeting McCree’s eyes. “You can come to my room when you’ve finished.”

“Will do, ma’am.” 

Hanzo glared at the woman. “We will all come to give you a progress report.”

Selina smirked. “Very well. Be off, then.” She turned to walk up the foyer stairs, leaving them and Dante behind her.

McCree turned to Hanzo with a smile and an eyebrow raised. Hanzo turned from him. “Let us go,” he spoke, “and use as much of our daylight as we can.”

The four men walked through the double doors and into the Rialto sun, planning out the first location at which they should convene. All the while, Hanzo fought against the urge to pull McCree close as Selina did, to rest his head on the other man’s shoulder while holding his hand, interlacing their fingers. He wanted nothing more at that moment, but Hanzo knew how selfish it would be. McCree would never want something like that from him, nor should he. But how badly Hanzo wanted to be touched by him, to feel his strong hands on his body. Just standing next to McCree was enough to make Hanzo’s heart quicken its pace. The intense feelings made him want to plunge himself into the canal and propel himself away from McCree. 

But Hanzo stayed put. His thoughts refused to leave the man next to him. He wanted McCree to tell him off, to remind Hanzo that he wasn’t worth his time. McCree only stood there, though, smiling at him and whispering more jokes into Hanzo’s ear, making Hanzo wish that he could feel those lips on his own and hold McCree close, the patch of sunlight shining down on them cradling them in its warmth.


	10. Deja Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to some McCree POV in this chapter.
> 
> Not really any warnings aside from some canon-typical violence. And maybe Zenyatta passively trying to play matchmaker. 
> 
> This one's pretty dialogue-heavy, so sorry if that's not your thing. 
> 
> I appreciate your support! We're almost to 500 kudos--that's so awesome! Thank you all so much. You make me so happy. Let me know in the comments either what you think of this story or of Sigma's toes and don't tell me which you're talking about.

Jesse sat at a small bistro table in Rialto’s main square while the Venetian people bustled around him, speaking fast and excitedly in a language he barely understood. Every now and then, he made out words like _ciao_ and _grazie_ , but all in all, his extensive knowledge of Spaghetti Westerns was not proving to be useful in breaking this language barrier. The sun was high in the sky, and his seat offered little shade from its intense rays. He felt the thin backing of his black metal chair heating up by the second, cooking him alive. Jesse sighed, propping an elbow on the small table and resting a head in his hand. Zenyatta, who sat in the chair across from him, lowered the newspaper he held in order to hide his face and looked at Jesse.

“What troubles you?” Zenyatta asked.

Jesse groaned and vaguely gestured at Dante at the other side of the square. The man sat in the outdoor seating area of the same five-star restaurant they had met Selina at earlier that day, and he was surrounded by a gang of other men in similarly expensive-looking suits. “Nothing’s happenin’,” Jesse said.

“Give it time,” Zenyatta said, lifting the newspaper in front of his face once more.

“Ain’t you overheating out here?” Jesse asked, glancing down at his own metal arm. “I know my arm gets scorchin’ when I don’t keep it shaded.”

“I do have a ventilation system,” Zenyatta hummed. “Perhaps you should ask our over-dressed friends how they are holding up.”

Jesse smiled. “Ain’t that the truth.”

He watched closely as a waiter brought a bottle of wine and glasses over to Dante’s table. The waiter carefully set the glasses in front of each man and poured them off their fair shares of the red drink. Even from this distance, Jesse could see the waiter fumble with the bottle a few times and scamper away when he was finished pouring, tail tucked between his legs. It seemed that everyone around the city knew what kind of shady business the Giordani’s got up to

Dante waited to take a sip of his drink until his companions had done so first. A smart move with an assassin on the loose, Jesse thought, but he could not ignore the selfishness of the action. Dante clearly didn’t care about his peers if he was willing to let them potentially be poisoned in order to save his own hide. The idea was unsettling to Jesse, for he knew that Dante would betray them too if it came down to it.

Jesse pulled his eyes away from Dante to shoot a quick glance towards the rooftops. “How ya doin’ there, Han?” Jesse asked into his communicator as discreetly as he could manage.

“I have eyes on Dante,” Hanzo’s voice replied a second later, crackling over the radio waves.

“See anythin’ interesting?”

“I seem to have spotted an omnic with glasses taped to his head sitting across from an American cowboy.”

“Hey, come on!” Jesse said with a chuckle. “I ain’t even wearin’ my get-up today. Took the spurs off just for you.”

“You are crowding the channel,” said Hanzo. Jesse could almost imagine the man holding back a smile as he said it.

“We’re the only two talkin’ on this channel!”

“One too many.”

Jesse laughed and ended the transmission. He resumed his occasional glancing towards Dante, watching as the wine bottle slowly drained and hoping that Dante would want to move to a new location soon. Suddenly, Zenyatta made a noise like he was clearing his throat. 

When Jesse turned towards him, he saw that Zenyatta had, once again, lowered his newspaper and was facing Jesse with his arms crossed over his chest. Jesse had a feeling that he was being psychoanalyzed or, at the very least, judged. “What?” he asked.

“I suppose I am curious,” Zenyatta began. “What are your thoughts regarding Overwatch’s latest recruit?”

“Hanzo?” Zenyatta nodded, and Jesse scratched his beard as he thought. “He’s alright.”

“That is all?”

Jesse shrugged. If he was being honest with himself, he still didn’t know what to think of the elder Shimada. He actually found himself enjoying Hanzo’s company, but, in the back of his mind, it still made him feel guilty. Genji had forgiven his brother, Jesse knew, but he couldn’t shake the idea that perhaps Genji wanted his friends to be angry at Hanzo on his behalf. It would show Genji that they cared. “The guy’s got a sense of humor,” Jesse finally said. “Wasn’t expectin’ that.”

Zenyatta nodded and shifted his gaze towards the rooftops.

“What, uh…” Jesse began, taking a moment to figure out how best to phrase his question. “You and Genji are close. How does he feel about...y’know…?”

“I gather that he is very hopeful, yet distressed,” Zenyatta answered. “One cannot simply forget a trauma like that. I am guessing the Shimada brothers’ close quarters brings up bad memories in the both of them. Genji has been lost in thought more often than usual, perhaps remembering _that day_. But my pupil knows that things have changed. He and his brother are both in a different situation, and Genji wants to rekindle a bond between them.”

“Power to ‘im,” Jesse said. “Genj has a strong mind.”

“That he does. I am more worried about Hanzo’s will than my pupil’s.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Hanzo has no ties to this place other than to Genji, and that tie is forged from Hanzo’s guilt and shame. Very little is keeping Hanzo here, and I fear that he will flee at any moment and return to a life of solitude. That, and while Angela has been his therapist, I have noticed that she is incredibly troubled. Of course, she cannot disclose any information about Hanzo, but their sessions have brought them closer, likely because Angela has a heightened desire to help Hanzo.”

Jesse stared at Zenyatta. “I didn’t know he was doin’ regular therapy sessions. That’s good. Shows he wants to do better.”

“Yes,” Zenyatta said. “I hope it serves him well.”

Jesse nodded. After a few moments, Hanzo’s voice sounded through their communicators with a message that Dante was moving to a new location. “Gotcha,” Jesse said. He and Zenyatta waited for some time before standing and following Dante at a distance as he moved toward the Rialto docks. Jesse knew that Hanzo was also following, silently and out of sight, with a bird’s eye view of the entire city. Jesse no longer felt uneasy knowing that Hanzo was watching his back. If anything, he had a newfound sense of security, for he no longer feared in the back of his mind that Hanzo would let them be gunned down. The man was trying, and that’s what mattered to Jesse.

* * *

Jesse and Zenyatta now sat in a restaurant by a large window with a perfect view of the Rialto canals. The sun was halfway through its descent, painting the sky with strokes of reds, oranges, and purples. The lights surrounding the canal had turned on, allowing them to still make out Dante and his date on their rented gondola. The omnic gondolier who rowed them along wore a black and white striped shirt and a straw hat. 

Dante and his date did not seem to be talking much, but the woman leaned into Dante’s arms as the boat floated along. Jesse assumed that the date was going well enough, but he hoped they would finish up soon -- he was getting sick of looking at the lovey-dovey couple.

“You are not fond of couples,” Zenyatta suddenly remarked.

Jesse ran a hand through his hair and groaned. “Ya ever stop with the mind-reading?”

“I have good emotional intelligence. Plus, you have been consistently rolling your eyes for the past hour.”

“It’s just…” Jesse waved his hands in front of him, searching for the right words. “We all get it: you’re a couple. Ya don’t need t’go around flountin’ it everywhere. ‘specially when their rich. It’s like ‘Oh, look at me ‘n how much money I can spend onna date. You wish you were me, huh?’”

“When is the last time you have dated?”

“S’that hafta do with it?” Zenyatta remained silent, simply looking at Jesse. “It’s been a good bit,” Jesse finally said.

“How long?”

“Goin’ on around a couple of, er...decades.” 

“Interesting,” Zenyatta hummed. “Why is that?”

“Ain’t like I don’t want a honey t’call mine,” Jesse huffed. “‘S just that people who act like they’re interested in me normally ain’t lookin’ for nothin’ long term...even if I hope they are. After we’ve, y’know, ‘hooked up,’ that’s typically it for ‘em and they leave me wonderin’ what I did wrong. Guess I gotta stop bein’ so nice.” Jesse didn’t know why he was opening up so much to Zenyatta. Something about the omnic made him feel safe, like there was absolutely no threat in confiding in Zenyatta. 

“It is not your kindness that is the problem; it is the selfishness of others,” Zenyatta answered.

Jesse cracked a small smile at that. “Thanks.”

As Zenyatta nodded, Jesse turned back towards the water. The sun had nearly left the sky, allowing the bright lights around the busy city to shine through the darkness. The gondolier had attached a lantern to the front of the gondola, allowing him to navigate through the dark waters. It looked to Jesse like a ferryman rowing a couple of lost souls across the River Styx. 

“I have visual,” Hanzo suddenly said through his com. 

Jesse straightened up in his chair. “What? Where?”

“Watch your three o’clock, on the roof of the red brick building.”

Jesse spoke into the channel he had told Dante to stay on. “You need to get to land,” he said. “Target’s been spotted and we wanna work on safely extracting you.” 

“Copy,” Dante said, and Jesse watched him untangle himself from his date and lean forward to convey his message to the gondolier. 

Jesse looked up to the roof of the red brick building and, in the light of an adjacent window, Jesse briefly spotted a patch of white stealing away behind a chimney. “See ‘em,” he said to Hanzo. 

“Firing to incapacitate,” Hanzo said. 

Jesse and Zenyatta got up and moved towards the where Dante would soon be docking. “Do not let them fall off of the roof,” Zenyatta said. 

“Yeah, maybe wait ‘til he’s closer to the ground to fire.”

“Our target is armed with kunai,” Hanzo said. “He does not need to be closer to the ground to strike. I am moving in.”

If he didn’t know what was going on, Jesse would have mistaken the faint twang of the arrow being release for a gust of wind. He and Zenyatta neared the dock just as Dante’s gondola was being anchored to a wooden post. Dante kissed his date goodbye and jogged to stand with them. Jesse and Zenyatta stood on either side of Dante and began walking fast back to the Giordani mansion. 

“Status report, Han,” Jesse said.

Hanzo took a minute to reply, and when he finally did, Jesse could tell that he was moving fast. “Target dodged the arrow and ran. I am in pursuit.”

“Be careful,” Jesse said. He ushered Dante across a stone bridge over the canal and down the road. They passed a few more buildings and docked boats before hearing a giant splash from the ocean beside them.

“Target dove into the ocean,” Hanzo said. “And my sonic arrows are giving me no visual. I am following.”

“Wait, Hanzo--” Jesse was interrupted by another large splash to his left. He looked out into the water, trying to catch a glimpse of either of the two bodies, but he came up empty. “Well, shit.”

Dante tugged on Jesse’s arm. “Come on,” he said. “I don’t want to be out here in the open any longer.”

“I hear ya, I hear ya,” Jesse huffed. He and Zenyatta continued rushing Dante back to his home. The guards posted at the front entrance to the grounds let them pass immediately at the sight of Dante. 

They entered the dark foyer of the mansion. The large open space accompanied with such little lighting left Jesse with a spooked feeling. He wondered if perhaps the mansion were haunted -- it seemed like the type of Victorian-era home that was always a hotspot for ghosts in the movies.

Dante turned to them. “Selina will want to see you. To the top of the stairs to the right, the room with the double doors,” he said bluntly and turned to walk in a different direction. Jesse listened to the tapping of his leather shoes against the marble floors slowly fade away before he and Zenyatta began their ascent.

Selina met them at the very top of the stairway. She nodded at Jesse, and he smiled and nodded back, figuring he might as well keep playing the part of the friendly officer. “Follow me,” she said, leading them to the double doors that Dante had mentioned. Jesse followed her inside.

The room was just as he remembered it when Gabriel had shot Antonio dead all those years ago. The large, black desk sat facing the door with three large windows behind it. The white floors stuck out amongst the glaring red of the walls, and a small library of books sat in a case on the left. Jesse could picture that night of the Venice Incident, Reyes shooting Antonio square in the chest, and the man plummeting through the window behind him to his death. Being back in this place almost made Jesse shudder. 

As Zenyatta moved to enter the room, Selina held out a hand to stop him. “Just Joel, please,” she said with a smirk. Zenyatta looked towards Jesse.

“Er, you could wait just out there for now, if that’s alright?” Jesse asked.

Zenyatta nodded and discreetly tapped his com. Jesse nodded back, making sure that the device was on and that Zenyatta would be able to hear everything that he said. Selina shut the doors and stood with her back to him for a moment.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“We found the assassin, ‘n my friend gave ‘em a chase into the ocean, but I don’t think he’s gonna catch our target. We know the assassin’s still out there, though, so you may wanna get some extra guards to walk around with you for a while.”

Selina nodded, her back still to Jesse. “Thank you.”

A haunting silence filled the room. Jesse took a few steps back toward the desk. “Uh…”

“How did it feel?” Selina asked. “How did it feel to murder my father?”

“Wha-”

When Selina turned to face him, Jesse saw that she had a pistol aimed straight at him. Her glare was piercing. “You think I don’t recognize you, Jesse McCree? I watched that news broadcast too many times to count, with the members of Blackwatch’s pictures plastered front and center. I could never forget your face, even with that disguise. Now answer my question. What was it like to take a little girl’s father away from her, to leave her with nothing but a tainted family name?”

“It wasn’t the plan-”

“Tell me!” Selina shrieked. A tear rolled slowly down her cheek.

“Look, we can talk this through-”

Seconds before Selina pulled the trigger, Jesse was shocked by the window shattering behind him, glass shards spraying the room. The shot of Selina’s pistol sounded as Jesse was tackled to the ground by a soaking wet Hanzo. Not wasting a moment more, Jesse unfastened his Peacekeeper from where it was hidden and shot Selina in the shin. She wailed and fell to the ground.

Jesse untangled himself from Hanzo and walked over to Selina, kicking the gun out of her reach. He aimed Peacekeeper at her head. “Call off the guards,” he said.

Selina slowly rose and limped to the intercom, holding down the button to make an announcement. “No threat, false alarm,” she said through tears. “Back to your posts.”

Once she was done, Jesse shot out the button on the intercom, causing sparks to shoot out from the damage. He turned to Hanzo who sat on the ground in a puddle of water with his back to the desk, bow propped up next to him. He walked to the man and offered him a hand, which Hanzo accepted.

As Jesse started to pull Hanzo up, the man groaned in pain and snatched his arm away, clutching his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Jesse asked frantically.

“It is nothing,” Hanzo replied as he stood, still clutching his shoulder. Scratches from the glass covered his hands.

“Lemme see,” Jesse said, gently grasping Hanzo’s wrist and guiding his hand away from his shoulder. Hanzo’s hand was covered in a layer of blood and more was oozing from the bullet wound.

“God, Han, you didn’t have to take a bullet for me,” Jesse said. He pinged for Tracer on his com and requested immediate emergency evacuation. Meeting coordinates were sent back not too far from the Rialto neighborhood. “Come on.” Jesse turned his back to Hanzo and lowered himself. “Jump on.”

“I am not getting on your back,” Hanzo mumbled. “I can walk.”

“You sure can,” Jesse said. He lifted Hanzo by his thighs causing the man to wrap his arms around Jesse’s neck to keep from falling. Jesse allowed Hanzo to quickly grab his bow before opening the double doors, leaving a sobbing Selina behind them.

The sight that greeted them when the doors opened was surprising to say the least. Zenyatta floated in the middle of the room, orbs circling around his head, with the bodies of fifteen unconscious guards surrounding him. “Sorry, I was a bit busy,” Zenyatta said. He looked at Hanzo and allowed one of his orbs to float over to the injured man. Jesse heard Hanzo let out a small sigh of relief.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” Jesse said and took off running down the stairway. The trip was made slightly difficult with the weight of Hanzo on his back, but Jesse urged his body to maintain some stamina. 

The three exited the Giordani mansion and ran for their extraction point. The whole situation gave Jesse a huge case of deja vu, but this time, luckily the alarms did not sound until the mansion was a safe distance behind them. “How did you know where to find me,” Jesse asked Hanzo.

Hanzo’s head was leaning on Jesse’s shoulder, wet hair dripping and soaking through his clothing. “I lost our target, so I went to come meet you at the manor. The guards would not let me pass, so I climbed the building. That is when I spotted you.”

Jesse adjusted his grip on Hanzo. “Well, thank ya, partner. You saved my hide back there. But don’t risk your life like that again. Could get yourself killed next time.”

Hanzo was silent. Jesse frowned and continued running off into the night, thankful that most of Rialto’s residents had retired to their homes. He ran by canals, through alleyways, and across lanes of traffic until he made it to the Giardini Reali di Venezia, the Royal Gardens, which was their extraction point. 

Tracer was waiting for them, doors to the dropship open for Jesse and Zenyatta to hurry inside. Once they entered, Tracer took to the sky and set off for Gibraltar. Jesse laid Hanzo down in a cot that he pulled from the supply closet and let Zenyatta get to work examining him. All the while, Hanzo kept saying that he was ‘fine’ and ‘do not trouble yourself over it.’ All the while, Zenyatta ignored him and put pressure on the wound while Jesse located bandages and adhesives.

Zenyatta tightly fastened the bandages to Hanzo’s shoulder and resumed applying pressure in order to stop the excessive blood flow. Hanzo frowned. “I am sorry I did not catch the target,” he suddenly said. “I promise I will do better next time.”

Jesse shook his head. “That don’t matter. We’re all safe, and we got some information. Everything’s good. Y’did real good.”

Hanzo looked up at the ceiling. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

Jesse took a seat next to the man and looked at him in awe. Hanzo saved Jesse like it was nothing, and even that wasn’t enough for Hanzo to be proud of. He needed more, he needed to be perfect. Thus, Jesse thought, Hanzo likely considered the mission a complete failure. 

Jesse sighed and rested a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, looking out of the ship’s window as they left Venice airspace. The lights of the city passed him by, becoming smaller and smaller until they were like ants, crawling around in the dirt and working hard until their day’s end.


	11. What's in your head?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post this chapter. I've been really busy lately :(  
> I hope you're all still enjoying this haha
> 
> Warnings in this chapter: explicit sexual content, themes of suicide

Hanzo’s dreams echoed an old Kobayahsi haiku he once read as a boy:

_Everything I touch_

_with tenderness, alas,_

_pricks like a bramble._

In sleep, he imagined reciting to himself a continuation of the famous poem:

_Then why, I ask, do_

_I touch if all I receive_

_are bites and bee stings._

Then he dreamt of McCree fucking him hard and fast in the dead of night. They were in the cowboy’s room -- Hanzo did not know how they ended up there, but he was too consumed by McCree’s touch, by his tongue exploring Hanzo’s mouth, to care. Hanzo was tangled in McCree’s sheets and had to knock an empty whiskey bottle from the mattress in order to lay comfortably. 

McCree had stripped him of his clothes and prepped him roughly, pumping his calloused, lube-coated fingers in and out of Hanzo’s hole. Now, his hips pressed firmly against Hanzo’s ass, cock sheathed fully inside of the other man. Hanzo bit down on one of his hands to keep from making a sound and grasped McCree’s sweaty back with his other.

McCree took hold of Hanzo’s metal ankles and held his legs spread open, using his grip as a means to pound hard into Hanzo. No matter how he tried, Hanzo could not stop some of the gasping moans that escaped his covered mouth. 

“There, right there,” Hanzo choked out as McCree fucked into him just right.

“And why should I give you want,” McCree replied. “Why should _you_ get t’feel good?”

Suddenly, the scene around them changed. He and McCree were in his old bedroom in the Shimada castle. It was just as Hanzo remembered it: a large bed, a room empty of any decoration, the wooden floors. Hanzo felt as though the walls were closing in. He couldn’t breathe. This place was dangerous.

“They will catch you,” he said to McCree.

McCree looked confused until his face twisted with pain. Blood flowed from his mouth in a steady stream. Hanzo looked down and saw a sword protruding from McCree’s chest and his mouth fell open, a silent scream. The sword was pulled free in one swift motion, and then it dissolved into the shadows. McCree fell to the ground, lifeless.

Hanzo fell to his knees next to the other man and caressed his head, stroking his silky brown hair with trembling fingers. “No, please,” Hanzo whispered to the shadows that surrounded him.

McCree suddenly opened his eyes once more, but something was wrong. His eyes were black, lacking irises, like pools of ink. Hanzo drew back.

“You killed me,” McCree said, touching the wound on his chest and examining the thick blood that stained his fingers. “You killed me too.”

“I didn’t,” Hanzo sputtered.

“You’re a disease. You break everythin’ you touch. Just end yourself already.”

Hanzo’s eyes went wide. The image of McCree before him flickered in and out of existence. “This is wrong. McCree would not do this.”

“But he should,” a voice from inside of Hanzo said.

“He wouldn’t. I do not deserve this!” 

The scene around Hanzo began to crumble. The shadows in the room expanded until they grew over everything except for Hanzo himself. Then the sludge-like entity climbed his legs. His torso. His neck. His-- 

Hanzo woke up with a start. Through his heavy breathing, it took him a moment to remember where he was. The hospital bed and his gown were covered in sweat. He reached to the nightstand, grabbing the glass of water that Lucio had set out for him and taking a few large gulps.

He felt lucky that when he, McCree, and Zenyatta arrived at the hospital, Lucio was the one working the night shift. The young medic was calm and friendly when checking them over. He had skillfully extracted the bullet from Hanzo’s shoulder and stitched him up, hooking him up to an IV for a minor blood transfusion. Hanzo was told to stay the night, just in case.

The thought of seeing Angela made him slightly nervous. Hanzo did not want the doctor to be angry at him and his impulsive actions. He hoped that she would understand his reasoning: that the mission was at stake and he cannot afford to start off on the wrong foot, that McCree was in danger and losing the cowboy would be much more detrimental to the organization than losing Hanzo.

Hanzo imagined it had to be close to morning. Through the windows, he could only see darkness, but the chirping of birds alerted him that it would soon be dawn. Just then, he heard footsteps from the other side of the room.

Angela was rushing over to him, her hair in a messy bun. She quickly checked his heart rate monitor, and after noticing that Hanzo was awake, she frowned. 

“Your heart rate went up,” she said.

“It was only a nightmare,” Hanzo replied.

Angela nodded and stood silent for a moment, watching the monitor. Hanzo let his eyes slip closed again. “Lucio told me what happened,” she finally said.

Hanzo readied his speech. “I apologize for worrying you,” he began, “but my actions were necessary. I had to do what I did for the sake of the mission and for McCree’s well-being.”

“What about your well-being?” Angela spat.

Hanzo scoffed.

“Hanzo…” Angela looked away from him. She pulled a nearby stool over to the side of Hanzo’s bed and sat down. “You cannot go on missions if you are acting on suicidal impulses--”

“I am not doing that!” Hanzo yelled. “Would you have me lounging around the base uselessly?! I was not trying to kill myself! I was...trying to save…”

“To save McCree?” 

“Yes,” Hanzo said with a nod.

Angela looked to the ground. “I am sorry for doubting you. What you did was very brave, but would you...mind answering a question for me?”

“Is this a therapy question?” Hanzo asked.

Angela let a small smile answer for her. “If you had to describe yourself in three words, what would those words be?” she asked.

Hanzo chuckled. “Such a cliche question.”

“Maybe so,” Angela said with a shrug. “But I would like to know.”

“And I suppose you would not appreciate a smartass answer like ‘good at archery,’ would you?”

“Nope.”

Hanzo sighed and took a moment to ponder the question. He thought of the violence he had enacted throughout his life, the pain he had caused. He thought of the people he had killed, including his brother. He thought of the curses, the pleas, the prayers his enemies gave him before he delivered a final killing blow to their bodies. “Monstrous,” he said at last. His dragons were restless under his skin, vehemently disagreeing with his words.

“Monstrous,” Hanzo said again. “Worthless and alone.”

Angela nodded and took a deep breath. She took his hand in hers and squeezed, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. “Would you like to know what I see in you?”

Hanzo said nothing and directed his gaze towards the white wall on the far side of the room. Angela continued. “I see someone who is caring, who is strong, and who is hurting deeply. I see someone who was born a kind and loving soul in an evil place.” Angela squeezed his hand once more, making Hanzo finally meet her gaze. “They saw that kindness and tried to force it out of you, and, yes, they did change you. But, even now, I can see it -- the love in you. You’ve been taught that your kindness is wrong, but you know, in your soul, that it’s not, and that is why it has survived in you for all of these years. Despite all you went through, you’re still caring and have compassion for others, though it may be hard to see at times. You would not be here otherwise.”

Hanzo took in her words, sinking back further into his pillow. He wished that, at that moment, the pillow would swallow him up, engulfing him in a pile of fluff so he would not have to continue this conversation. “It is hard to imagine myself without self-hatred,” he mumbled. “It has been taught to me and I have known it all my life. Without it, I feel empty.”

Angela nodded. “That makes sense. You have never learned to love yourself, so, yes, without hating yourself you may feel empty. But we want to replace that emptiness with love.”

“I will...try my best,” Hanzo said.

Angela smiled at him and stood up. “That is all I needed to hear. Now rest for a little longer. Jesse told me to tell you that he was making you breakfast this morning as a ‘thank ya’ gift, so don’t think you will be rushing out of here as soon as you can see the sun.”

Hanzo’s smile dropped. “He does not need to--” 

He stopped himself at seeing Angela’s stern gaze. “Right,” Hanzo said. “‘Love myself.’ In that case, that is very kind of him. I will rest. Thank you, doctor.”

Angela’s smile returned and she nodded at him before turning and walking away. Hanzo closed his eyes and felt sleep quickly take him over once more.

* * *

Hanzo was woken some hours later by a gentle hand on his uninjured shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly. He slowly opened his eyes to find McCree looking down at him and holding a hulking plate of food. “Sorry t’wake you up, but Ang said ya needed to get some food in ya,” McCree said with a smile.

Trying to rid his mind of the dream he had earlier, Hanzo smiled back and accepted the plate McCree held out to him. On it was a pile of scrambled eggs, three strips of crispy bacon, and, in the center, one huge, fluffy pancake with a slab of butter melting on the center. “Thank you,” Hanzo said. “It looks delicious.”

“The least I could do,” McCree replied as he sat down in the stool Angela had set out. He retrieved a similar plate of food for himself from where it rested on the nightstand. 

Hanzo began with the bacon, scarfing down the strips of meat and sucking his greasy fingers clean. “So, uh, how ya feelin’?” McCree asked between bites.

Hanzo smiled softly. “I am perfectly fine. You all worry too much. It was only a minor wound.”

McCree nodded and took a bite of his eggs. “Our jobs are tough,” he said after swallowing. “Can never be too careful.”

Shrugging, Hanzo began working on finishing his eggs. “Y’know,” McCree continued, “y’don’t have to prove anythin’ to us by puttin’ yourself in danger.”

Hanzo let his fork clatter to his plate and glared at the cowboy. “Everybody talks to me as if I am some child who knows nothing,” he spat. “I know I do not have to prove anything.”

“Y’clearly don’t,” McCree shot back. “Talkin’ about doin’ better next time as you’re lyin’ in the dropship soakin’ wet with a gunshot wound.”

“You know nothing,” Hanzo growled.

McCree sighed and set his plate down. “Look, Han, I’ve lost plentya people in this job. Don’t wanna lose another one because I made him think he had somethin’ to prove to me.”

Hanzo shook his head. “It has nothing to do with that. I have told you that the way you originally treated me was beyond excusable.”

“Come to karaoke night,” McCree blurted suddenly. 

“What?” Hanzo asked, raising an eyebrow at the cowboy.

“Tomorrow night, instead of doing a movie night, Hana wants us to go to the karaoke bar in town. Come with us, drink a few beers, relax...it’ll be fun.”

Hanzo was silent for a moment before nodding. “I will think about it.”

McCree smiled, and, with the situation defused, the two went back to eating their breakfasts, the clatter of silverware against the glass plates echoing throughout the room. 

* * *

The karaoke bar in Gibraltar was small, yet packed full of patrons. Jesse noticed that most of them were apart of the Overwatch crew, but there were handfuls of Gibraltar residents seated in corners, enjoying the show. All had beers or cocktails and were flipping through song lists at their tables to decide what they would sing.

Currently, Tracer was wrapping up her drunken version of Lana Del Rey’s rendition of “Doin’ Time” as other members of the team hooted and hollered their praises. On one side of him, Reinhardt was insisting that Zarya and he perform Dschinghis Khan’s “Moskau” while Ana, through uncontrollable laughter, egged them on. 

To his other side, Hanzo sat sipping on his fourth or fifth beer. Jesse was beyond glad that the other man decided to show up, and the more he drank, the more comfortable Hanzo appeared to be. 

As Tracer stepped down from the stage amidst cheering, Hana and Lucio stepped up to sing one of Lucio’s songs. As Lucio sang, Hana tried to imitate the Portugese but mostly ended up bellowing gibberish over Lucio’s lyrics. They finished the final verse, and Hana playfully shouted above the laughter, “I’m fluent in two languages! Any more would literally kill me!”

To the other side of Hanzo, Genji was trying to convince Angela to sing “Mr. Roboto” with him while Angela leaned against him to gaze at the song book, attempting to suggest any other song but to no avail.

Hanzo suddenly turned to Jesse. He was wearing his hair down, causing it to twirl as he sharply moved his head. “I want to sing,” Hanzo said, laughing.

Jesse smiled. “Go ‘n sing, Han. I’ll cheer you on.”

“I want to sing with you.”

“Oh,” Jesse sputtered. “Uh, what d’ya wanna sing?”

Hanzo shrugged and took another sip of his beer. “Let them pick for us. It will be funny.”

Jesse chuckled. “A’right, why not? Let’s sing.”

As they walked on stage, Jesse was not sure what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t for Hanzo to be an amazing singer. As Bad Wolves’ “Zombie” rang out on the speakers, Hanzo hit every note with ease. 

_Another head hangs lowly,_

_child is slowly taken._

_And the violence causes silence,_

_who are we mistaken?_

Jesse tried to keep up but was unable to match Hanzo’s talent. The other man was completely engaged with the melody, seemingly forgetting that Jesse was next to him as he bellowed the notes perfectly.

_But you see, it’s not me,_

_It’s not my family,_

_In your head, in your head,_

_they are fighting._

_With their tanks, and their bombs,_

_and their bombs, and their drones,_

_In your head, in your head,_

_they are crying._

The tone of the music suddenly shifted and Hanzo took hold of Jesse’s arm to pull him closer to the microphone. Jesse stared at Hanzo as he continued with the chorus.

_What’s in your head?_

_In your head?_

_Zombie, zombie, zombie._

_What’s in your head?_

_In your head?_

_Zombie, zombie, zombie._

Jesse could only think to himself that Hanzo’s voice sounded angelic. Hanzo’s pitch was beautiful, making Jesse sound like an American Idol blooper by comparison. They sang the next verse and finished the song, Hanzo looking like he was attempting to contain his glee at everyone’s cheering. 

“Didn’t know you could sing like that,” Jesse whispered to him as they stepped off the stage. “That was somethin’ else.”

“I am not that good.”

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one.”

Hanzo smiled. “You are too kind.”

Jesse shook his head, smiling back. As they returned to their table, Hanzo moved his chair closer to the cowboy before sitting down. Genji looked at Jesse, and he shrugged in return, unsure of how to explain Hanzo’s behavior.

Genji and Angela left to sing “Mr. Roboto,” much to Angela’s dismay, and Hanzo let his head rest on the table, hair strewn out over its surface. He looked up at Jesse, smile never leaving his face. Jesse reached over to pat him on the head, rubbing his thumb over Hanzo’s scalp briefly.

He moved to pull his hand away, but Hanzo took hold of his wrist and guided Jesse’s hand back to his hair. Jesse did nothing but stare until Hanzo started to manually guide his hand up and down the black locks. Jesse took the hint and began stroking the other man’s hair. Hanzo sighed happily as Jesse complied, allowing his eyes to drift closed.

“Y’like that?” Jesse asked, massaging Hanzo’s scalp.

Hanzo nodded with his face pressed to the table. Jesse realized that Hanzo had been smiling for almost the entire night. For some reason, the thought made him ecstatic. He wanted to see Hanzo happy and smiling, to see him having fun. He figured that the other man deserved to feel at ease like this. Jesse stroked Hanzo’s hair throughout Genji and Angela’s song and the one after that; he kept it up until people began heading home for bed, and only then did he rouse Hanzo. The two men walked side-by-side back to the Watchpoint, guided by streetlamps and the light from Jesse’s phone. All Jesse kept thinking was that he hoped to hear Hanzo sing again in the future.


	12. Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot is unfolding...slowly. Thanks for the support and for having patience with me! Y'all are the greatest.
> 
> Warnings in this chapter: some brief hints of internalized homophobia

The following morning, Hanzo woke with a slight headache and an aching back after sleeping curled on the small loveseat in McCree’s room. He groaned and sat up, popping his back and massaging the muscles where his legs met his prosthetics. Slowly, thoughts of the previous night materialized in Hanzo’s head and he found himself pinching the bridge of his nose and hanging his head with embarrassment. The singing, the dancing, and, worst of all, the neediness in his insistence that McCree stay by his side: they all made him cringe.

Last night, as McCree walked him home, Hanzo found himself wanting to be in the other man’s presence for just a little while longer. He had refused to give McCree the code to his room no matter how much the cowboy asked. As the time passed, McCree seemed to grow more annoyed at Hanzo’s stubbornness until he finally told McCree that he did not want to be alone again. “I feel lonelier when I come home alone after spending the day in good company. I do not want to leave it behind yet,” he had said, and the drunkenness finally began morphing into exhaustion, bearing down on his shoulders like a load of bricks. “Please,” he added as an afterthought. McCree had nodded slowly and guided Hanzo down the hall to his own room where he happily drifted off on the other man’s sofa, lulled to sleep by the sounds of McCree getting ready for bed.

Hanzo got up from his makeshift bed and saw that McCree had already left, perhaps to go to the dining hall. He noticed a small piece of paper on the coffee table and picked it up, realizing that it was a note from the cowboy. It read, _Winston went over the footage from our comms. Wants to meet with us at noon to discuss some things. See ya there._

Hanzo folded the note and set it back on the table, impressed at McCree’s incredibly ornate and delicate printing. He trudged out of the cowboy’s room and made his way to his own quarters for a hot shower. Compared to McCree’s Western-style decorated room, Hanzo noticed that his own room was incredibly plain. There was no decor on his white walls, and the only pops of color were his case for Stormbow and the blue comforter strewn over his bed. He shrugged and walked into the bathroom. After brushing his teeth, he undressed and wrapped his bandaged shoulder in some plastic so his stitches would not get wet.

The hot water rained down on him, making Hanzo feel like his was being held in warm arms. He sighed, content, and lathered some sweet-smelling shampoo in his hair. He then rubbed soap over his body, fingers gliding over the vertical scar on his stomach. Hanzo frowned.

He did not know why he continued seeking McCree’s company. It had been proven to him more than once that McCree was too good for him, that the cowboy’s life would be simpler without Hanzo in it. Yet Hanzo selfishly remained by McCree’s side. _Pathetic_ , he thought to himself.

Hanzo rinsed himself off under the steaming water and stepped out of the shower. Fog had collected over his bathroom mirror, and he used his hand to wipe enough of it away that he could see his face. Gazing at himself, Hanzo traced his frown lines and greying hairs with his fingers. He gripped the sink and moved forward to let his forehead rest against the mirror. _So pathetic,_ he thought again.

Moving slowly, Hanzo dried himself off and dressed into a t-shirt and sweatpants. Disregarding breakfast, he left his room to meet with Winston, interested to know what the commander had to say about their mission. Despite their failure, Hanzo sincerely hoped that he had proven himself worthy of being an Overwatch agent. As he entered Winston’s office a few minutes before noon, Hanzo saw that many agents were already present.

Ana and Jack stood beside one another, their backs to the wall while they waited for Winston to begin. Zenyatta floated by the door, seemingly lost in his thoughts, and he nodded at Hanzo as he entered. Lastly, McCree sat in one of Winston’s chairs, puffing on a cigar and watching the smoke drift up towards the ceiling. 

Winston shuffled through a stack of papers after Hanzo closed the door behind him. “Alright, um, looks like we’re all here,” he mumbled. “So, as you all know I went over the footage from the mission in Rialto, and I have a few observations to share.”

“Lay ‘em on us,” McCree said, folding his arms behind his head and leaning further back in his seat.

Winston nodded and pulled up some video footage. “Exhibit A!” he shouted with a chuckle, slowly quieting down when he realized nobody else was laughing. He fumbled with the remote and awkwardly pressed play.

The first video was from Hanzo’s comm. It was focused in on the assassin’s feet as the two ran over rooftops. In some areas, it seemed like the assassin was floating rather than running. Winston gestured to the screen.

“You see it too, right?” he asked. The agents in the room nodded. “Perhaps the target has some type of supernatural abilities,” Winston continued. “You are all aware of Sigma, correct?”

Hanzo shook his head. “I am not.”

“Sigma was taken in by Talon after one of his experiments on gravity went wrong,” Winston said. “He is now able to harness gravity and contain the power of black holes. This may have something to do with him.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You think Talon could be doing more gravity experiments?”

“It is a possibly,” Winston replied.

“Then why would they waste that power on killing allies,” Jack sighed. “Doesn’t make sense.”

Winston looked unsure of how to respond, and he moved on to the next video clip. This one was also from Hanzo’s comm and showed footage from right before the assassin dove into the ocean. “Here, Athena was briefly able to hack into the assassin’s comm,” Winston said. “I synced the audio file we extracted with the video. Listen.”

Right as the assassin jumped, an accented voice said, “Regroup in Dorado. I have a new target for you.” Then the footage cut off.

Winston coughed into his fist. “I’m sure many of you recognize that voice as--”

“Sombra,” McCree finished.

Nodding, Winston turned off the screen. “Talon is certainly up to something, and I want a group to go to Dorado and find out what it is. I’m sending Ana as your medic along with Jack and McCree since Jack knows his way around and the both of you speak Spanish. You’re set to leave tomorrow evening.”

McCree took an especially long drag from his cigar. “Sí, lo que tú digas,” he said and stood up from his chair. He stomped passed Hanzo and Zenyatta to leave the room. 

Winston scratched his head. “What did he say?”

“‘Yeah, whatever,’” Jack replied.

Winston hummed and suddenly clapped his hands together, wearing a big smile on his face. The sight of the sharp teeth was unsettling to Hanzo. “Well, alright!” Winston said. “That’s all I wanted to tell you. I have a good feeling about the work we’re doing here. You all can go back to your business.”

After he finished speaking, Hanzo ran from the room to catch up with McCree. The cowboy had not gotten far when Hanzo laid a hand on his shoulder. McCree turned to face him. “What is it?”

“Are you alright?” Hanzo asked.

McCree sighed. “Nah, not really.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“Not now.”

Hanzo nodded. “Would you like me to take your mind off of it?”

McCree’s breath caught in his throat and he began coughing into his elbow. At hearing his own words, Hanzo’s face turned completely red. “Wait, no, I did not mean it like _that._ ” 

As McCree’s coughing fit faded, he took in a large breath of fresh air. The cowboy’s face also began to match the red of his serape. He cleared his throat. “Sorry ‘bout that. What were you sayin’?”

Hanzo directed his gaze to the tiled floor. “I was looking to buy Angela a gift to give her during our session tomorrow. Something to say ‘thank you.’ You have known her longer than I, so I wanted some advice on what to get her.”

McCree smiled. “I know the perfect place,” he said. He began walking down the hall and motioned for Hanzo to follow. “Come on, let’s go to town.”

“Now?” Hanzo asked.

“Yeah, why not?”

“You are not sick of my company?”

McCree suddenly stopped walking, remaining silent for a moment with his back to Hanzo. “Course not,” he answered softly. “Now you comin’ or not?”

Hanzo nodded. “I am coming. Lead the way.”

* * *

The small sweets shop in Gibraltar sat tucked in the middle of a back road and was lined from floor to ceiling with baked goods, chocolates, and candies. There were not many customers in the store, giving Hanzo the opportunity to browse the shelves freely. The heavenly smells of icing and sugar were almost too much for him to handle; it reminded him of the streets of Hanamura during the holiday season, the bakers selling their treats as the delicious aromas floated up the city streets. A display case sat at the front of the shop, showing off the most ornate cakes of the selection. Hanzo’s mouth watered just looking at them, but the price tags were another story.

In another life, Hanzo would have easily bought Angela the most expensive cake in the store. Now, he had limited funds and was much more conscious of his purchases. He had never been a frivolous spender, but he used to take pleasure in indulging in costly treats and clothing every now and then. Hanzo’s family was hell and the embodiment of corruption, but he would be lying if he said he did not miss not having to worry about money. 

“She likes the Swiss chocolates,” McCree said.

“Ah,” Hanzo said, suddenly remembering why they came. “Good taste.”

He walked over to the boxes of Swiss chocolates and grabbed two of the only kinds not in the shape of a heart. He held them up next to one another to compare. One was bigger, but the other seemed to be of higher quality. He took a moment to consider the options before turning to McCree. “Opinions?” Hanzo asked.

McCree looked over the two options. “Less is more,” he said with a shrug.

Hanzo nodded and set the bigger box down. On his way to the cash register, he eyed various sweets and had to hold himself back from filling his arms and buying the entire store. After he finished paying and received the box of chocolates back in a paper bag, McCree stepped up to the register. 

“Can I get two of the donuts with the chocolate icing and the sprinkles -- yeah, those ones,” he said, gesturing at the glazed pastries. The cashier deposited the donuts into a bag and handed it over to McCree who tipped his hat in thanks before paying.

Hanzo watched with wide eyes as McCree turned to him and held one of the donuts out to him. “Want one?” the cowboy asked.

As much as Hanzo knew he should decline the generous offer, he found himself nodding and accepting the food. He waited until the two of them left the store to take a large bite, letting the gooey icing melt in his mouth. “Thank you,” Hanzo said after swallowing. “You seem to continue gifting me with food and beverages. It is very appreciated although unnecessary."

“Ya lost me after ‘it is very appreciated,’” McCree said, grinning and reaching down into the bag to grab the other donut. 

“I will return the favor some time,” Hanzo replied.

McCree was silent as he took a bite of his own donut. Hanzo noticed that the cowboy had begun walking down a path that was separate from the one leading to the Watchpoint. The downward path away from the town soon became rocky, walled with tall grass, and, from there, it turned to sand. Hanzo heard the crashing of waves before he saw them, and he was careful not to let any of the grains get into metal sockets. The air became cooler and saltier the further they walked.

The beach was small and secluded, surrounded by rocks and the cliffs of Gibraltar. “Nobody ever comes here,” McCree said. “Not tourist-y enough, I guess.”

“It is beautiful,” Hanzo said, gazing at the expanse of sea and sky before him.

McCree nodded and took a seat on a large rock once they had moved closer to the ocean. Hanzo followed suit, careful not to sit too close to his companion. “I have always loved the ocean,” Hanzo said, not removing his eyes from the body of water. “It is peaceful and mysterious.”

McCree hummed in agreement. “Kinda like Zenyatta,” he added after a pause.

Hanzo laughed. “Yes, I suppose.”

The two finished their donuts and sat watching the waves. One particularly large one almost brought the water to Hanzo’s feet, soaking the sand in front of him. Tiny spiral seashells of all colors were washed onto the shore, and Hanzo wondered if there was any beach glass or other small treasures among them. “Speaking of Zenyatta,” Hanzo began, “he told me that I should talk to you about a few things.”

“Yeah?” McCree asked, looking at Hanzo. “Lay it on me.”

“You do not have to talk about it, but he mentioned your time in the Deadlock Gang. I was wondering how...you got out of it.”

McCree stiffened at the mention of his former gang. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. After sticking one in his mouth and lighting it, the cowboy took a long puff and exhaled the smoke away from Hanzo. “Well it wasn’t exactly me who decided to leave. Gabe -- an old Blackwatch agent -- found me down near Route 66 causin’ lots of trouble. He saw that I was a great shot and took me in, sayin’ I could either go to jail or work for him. Wasn’t a hard decision to make.”

Hanzo nodded. “Do you still think about it? Your life in Deadlock, I mean.”

“Every damn day,” McCree sighed. “I wasn’t always the best person. Fact is, I was pretty fuckin’ bad. Killed alotta good innocent people. That had me thinkin’ today.”

“What were your thoughts?”

“I’ve been thinkin’ that...well, when I was in Deadlock, none of it ever felt right. At first I thought it was ‘cause I wasn’t used to the crime yet. But I never got used to it. It never felt any better or any easier. I thought Overwatch would be different, make me feel better about what I’m doin’.”

Hanzo nodded in agreement.

“It doesn’t,” McCree continued. “We’re doin’ better work here, but...it all ends the same. We shoot our guns ‘n people die. We break up families and children and other loved ones suffer. People we’re killin’ may not even be bad, just pawns in this political mess.”

Hanzo frowned and thought over his companion’s words. “I suppose there is no escaping this cycle of killing. It makes up our lives."

“Shouldn’t be that way,” McCree said, then added much more softly, “I’m damn tired.”

“As am I,” Hanzo whispered back. The conversation dropped off after that and the two looked back towards the ocean. One after another, the waves crashed down onto the shore, spraying water and foam in their direction. Almost immediately after the tide receded, another wave came crashing down. Around and around it went as Hanzo stared, almost hypnotized, by the beautiful blue water.

* * *

Angela took longer than usual to come out of her office after Hanzo’s memories were extracted. Hanzo waited patiently in the cushioned chair, ready to drift back off into sleep. His eyelids became heavy, and Hanzo felt his head drooping forward when he finally heard the soft tapping of Angela’s shoes.

Hanzo looked up at the doctor and saw that her eyes were red and puffy. “What is wrong?” he asked.

At his question, Angela scrunched her face and seemed to be trying very hard to hold back more tears. She moved to the couch, and Hanzo followed her. “Jesus, Hanzo,” she whispered.

“What did you see?” he asked, already guessing her answer.

“Tetsuo.”

Although he was prepared to hear Tetsuo’s name, Hanzo’s breath still caught in his throat. His body sank lower and lower on the couch until his head rested in Angela’s lap. “Talk to me,” Hanzo spoke softly.

“Do you think of him?”

“Often.”

She began gently playing with his hair. “Hanzo, why...why did you stay with him?”

“He treated me exactly how I deserved to--”

“Stop that!!” Angela yelled, glaring. Hanzo stiffened. “Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you _dare!”_

“What should I say then?” Hanzo growled.

“What did you see in him?”

Hanzo considered this. “I loved him when he was happy. He was kind to me, and I have never done better than him.”

“Were there _more_ like Tetsuo?”

“No,” Hanzo clarified. “I just have not dated again.”

“Hanzo, you deserve so much better than that. Believe me. Would you mind sharing your sexual orientation?”

Hanzo frowned and looked at the floor. “I am...gay.”

“Thank you. Was it hard for you growing up in your household with a queer identity? Feel free not to answer anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Hanzo shook his head. “It was never discussed. Although, I always knew that, eventually, my family would have me marry a woman to have children who would continue the Shimada line.”

“I’m sorry,” Angela said.

“It is fine; I am no longer bound to that commitment.”

“Know that you can get many more guys who are trillions times better than Tetsuo.”

Hanzo smiled. “Has this session turned into a pep talk?”

“Most definitely.”

“In that case, I will say that I have been rather...fond of McCree’s company lately,” Hanzo said feeling his face heat up slightly.

“Have you now?” 

“Indeed.”

“Well, keep being you and let me know how things are turning out. And tell me if he’s being a shithead; I’ll kick his ass.”

Hanzo laughed and sat up. “Will do, doctor. And before I forget, I brought something for you.”

He stood and went to grab the paper bag with Angela’s chocolates from the small table he set it on. With a smile, he extended the gift to the doctor. “McCree helped me pick it out for you.”

Angela gasped softly as she glimpsed inside the bag. “Swiss chocolate,” she said to herself. Suddenly, she stood and pulled Hanzo into a big hug, squeezing him close to her. “Thank you so much. That is so nice of you.”

Hanzo patted her back. “It was not a problem. Thank you for being there for me.”

“You do not have to thank me,” she whispered, “but either way I will enjoy these chocolates. Thank you, Hanzo.”

Hanzo nodded, feeling a sense of pride in himself at seeing Angela smile, something he had not felt outside of the battlefield for a long time. He had trouble recalling the last time he felt good about himself, and as he finished up his session and exited Angela’s office, he walked to his room with a warm feeling in his chest and a small smile on his face.

* * *

Hours later, Hanzo was taking a nap when he was awoken by the power across the base going off with a flash. All was dark, and Hanzo could barely see his hand in front of his face. Seconds later, the lights and air conditioning returned, and everything seemed to be normal once more. Hanzo shrugged and laid back down, feeling himself being pulled back into the clutches of sleep as the minutes passed. Suddenly, there was a pounding at his door. 

Hanzo sighed and forced himself to stand, pushing his comforter aside and trudging to the door. He pressed a button on the keypad, and the door slid open revealing a frantic Angela. Hanzo raised a brow. “Dr. Zeigler? What is the matter?”

“Hanzo…” she trailed off and covered her face with her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“What is it?”

“We were..I’m so sorry....the base was just...hacked.” Angela began speaking fast. “We were able to trace the attack to Dorado, so it was likely Sombra. It was sloppy work on her part, though, which is strange. We are normally not able to find her location, but this time we traced her to an exact address. It could be a trap, but it is still worth examining cautiously. Jesse, Ana, and Jack are set to move out tonight. You may join them if you would like -- I already alerted Winston that you may travel with them. I--”

“Doctor! Slow down. What are you talking about?” Hanzo asked, worry slowly creeping up his spine.

“She hacked my computer and...she took them, Hanzo. She took your memory files.”


	13. On the Road Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recently joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too happy with this chapter, but let me know what you think.  
> Me: *finishes the chapter late at night* aaaa, I'll post and proofread in the morning.
> 
> Anyway, warnings here for: panic attacks.
> 
> Hope you enjoy and don't get too bored! Love ya!

Hanzo felt his head spin. All at once, his vision became dark, like he was looking out at a bright light from deep inside a tunnel. He clutched at his heart, shirt wrinkling where his fingers gripped. Blood was pounding in his ears, making it hard to focus on Angela.

He heard himself breathing heavily, but the sound seemed to be coming from far away, not from his own nose. Everything began to feel cold. Angela’s hand on his shoulder startled him, and he knocked it away.

“Hanzo, you’re having a panic attack. Look at me; focus on me,” she said firmly.

Hanzo looked into her eyes, trying to take back control over his body. He leaned backwards so his back rested against the door to his quarters, and he tried to count his breaths. After a minute, his breathing began slowing down as he inhaled deeply through his nose and blew the air back out of his mouth.

Angela silently encouraged him, her eyes wide and full of concern. But, right now, Hanzo did not want to look at her any longer. “You mean to tell me,” he began, trying to find his voice once more, “that Talon has my worst memories at their fingertips. That they now have new and powerful weapons to use against me personally, perhaps to torture me until I join them? Am I correct?”

Angela nodded. “Hanzo, I’m--” 

He glared at her. “And you just had them sitting on your desktop? Were they labeled as well? ‘Hanzo’s most traumatic memories; here you go Talon.’”

“I would have put them under extra security if I had known exactly how vulnerable Athena is right now,” Angela said. “I did not mean for this to happen. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Oh, so I have Winston to thank for this -- for not warning you of Athena’s current shortcomings? Brilliant. Where is the team that is departing for Dorado? I will be joining them and finding out what is being done with my information.”

“In Winston’s office,” Angela said after a pause.

“Wonderful,” Hanzo spat. He turned, walked into his room to grab Stormbow, and then stomped down the hall away from Angela. This all served him right for thinking there was hope for him, for allowing himself to be happy, even for a moment. Now, perhaps Talon would up their recruitment efforts and forcefully draw Hanzo back into a life of murder and terror. The thought made him want to curl up and cry, never getting up again. Like many other instances in his life, he so badly wanted to give up.

But he knew that he could not. Hanzo knew in his heart that this is what he had to do to redeem himself, to not die a monster. He had to carry on -- it was his duty.

Hanzo ran straight into McCree’s back right outside of the door to Winston’s office. He had been too lost in thought to notice the large man pacing outside of the commander’s office. Both men let out an _oof_ as they collided.

“Woah there,” McCree said. “You good?”

Hanzo nodded, not trusting himself to speak without bursting into tears and embarrassing himself. 

McCree reached out to pat his shoulder. “You sure?”

This time, Hanzo did break down. His forehead came to rest on McCree’s shoulder as he was overtaken by uncontrollable sobbing. The tears flowed freely, and Hanzo felt overwhelmingly hopeless. 

McCree stood still for a moment and then wrapped his arms around Hanzo, shushing him gently as he rubbed his back. “What happened, Han?” he whispered, sounding shocked.

“Nothing,” Hanzo choked out. 

“Well it’s certainly something,” McCree said. “Please, I wanna help.”

Hanzo pulled away after noticing that he was staining McCree’s serape with his tears. “I can take care of my own problems.”

“I know ya can. I still wanna help out. Make it easier on ya, whatever it is.”

“I am not weak!” Hanzo growled, stepping back from the cowboy.

McCree raised his hands defensively. “I know, Han. You’re goin’ through a rough patch, and you’re allowed to cry. Don’t mean you’re weak.” 

“I am coming on the mission,” Hanzo said suddenly.

McCree raised his eyebrows. “Err, what? Why?”

“Something was stolen that belongs to me. I wish to get it back.”

After a moment, McCree nodded. “Alright, alright. Ana and Jack are in with Winston already. Wanna join them?”

“Yes,” Hanzo said. He wiped the stray tears from his eyes took a deep breath. He watched McCree walk into Winston’s office, and, after a brief pause, he followed.

* * *

The Orca ride to Dorado was a few hours longer than the one to Rialto. Tracer rocketed the ship over the ocean, sure to keep the cloaking device on. The four agents sat on the red built-in couch as Tracer piloted, tired and silent aside from the occasional small talk. Hanzo felt that he had time to nap, but he knew that sleep would not come to him. Not now. He was too high-strung and eager to land in Mexico. 

Winston had expressed his disapproval at Hanzo’s decision to join the team, saying that it was likely a trap set by Sombra to get to him. Hanzo didn’t care. He wanted his memories back. Their mission was simple enough: locate Sombra and bring her in for questioning. The hack had been sloppy work on Sombra’s part, making her easy to track down. All seemed to guess that something was fishy.

McCree sat close to Hanzo on the Orca, shooting him worried glances every now and then. He had appeared shocked to learn from Winston that Hanzo’s memories were what had been stolen. Hanzo had watched the cowboy’s face grow red as Winston spoke, laying out the details for the other three agents. 

Currently, McCree leaned back against the couch cushion and sighed deeply, like he was letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “It ain’t right,” he said, nudging Hanzo.

“What?” Hanzo asked. Jack and Ana also looked over at McCree, seemingly happy about this distraction from their exhaustion.

“What Angie’s doin’. Usin’ you as a guinea pig for this new therapy. It’s messed up.”

Hanzo frowned. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to defend Angela, as angry as he was at her. “She is trying. I felt that it was helping, until now.”

“What’s wrong with the good ol’ fashioned _talking_ about your problems?” McCree asked. Jack nodded along with him.

“The exposure is perhaps helping me react better to my past.”

Ana smiled at him and shrugged. “Whatever is helping. We all have many opinions, but everyone’s process is different. As long as you feel that you are healing, I am happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo whispered. He truly did feel like Angela’s methods were helping. Having someone close to him who knew what he experienced in his past made Hanzo feel a lot less alone in the world. And talking about his traumas was something that he never imagined he would have the opportunity to do. The process made it feel like heavy weights had been lifted off of his chest. 

Thinking of it all suddenly made him want to apologize to Angela for his outburst. The doctor had been a good friend, and he took out his fear and anger on her. Hanzo groaned and allowed his head to rest against the wall behind him. 

All three other agents looked at him, worried. McCree reached up and ran some fingers through Hanzo’s hair and massaged his scalp.

“Don’t worry, kid,” Jack said. “We’ll catch Sombra.”

Hanzo, from the bottom of his heart, hoped that Jack was right. 

* * *

Tracer landed the ship on a small, empty beach outside of the city. The four agents trekked up a dirt road until they made their way to the main city square. Jack and McCree asked a few passerbys for directions to the neighborhood they knew Sombra was hiding out in, and they were pointed by confused citizens in the direction of abandoned houses. One inhabitant explained that the houses had been rendered unlivable by flooding and the resulting mold. They were told that, perhaps, someone had given them the wrong location.

The four agents paid little attention to the warnings, figuring that the location would be a perfect area for Sombra to hide out. Once in the abandoned neighborhood, Ana traced the coordinates to one particular home. They found themselves in front of the building that received the least amount of apparent damage from the floods. All they saw that was amiss from the outside were broken and boarded up windows. Still, the building was dark and loomed over Hanzo like Death himself.

After doing a quick perimeter check, McCree looked at Hanzo. “You okay?” he asked.

Hanzo frowned. “Other than the fact that all of my worst fears could be behind that very door, yes, I am fine.”

McCree gave him a pat on the shoulder before kicking open the door. 

“Well, ya weren’t far off,” McCree said with a sigh.

Inside, Sombra sat reclined on a rolling chair, feet propped up on the desk in front of her. The blue light from a computer screen illuminated her smiling face. “You know it was unlocked?” she said with a chuckle, seemingly unfazed by their abrupt entrance. “Took you long enough to get here.”

All four of them entered the building, weapons drawn and pointed at the woman in front of them. “Wow, rude,” she said, and then her eyes met Hanzo’s. Her face lit up. “Oh, Hanzo, I’m glad you could make it! You know, when I hacked into the base, I was expecting to find tiny bits of information here and there. Finding your traumatic childhood memories in a single file was a pleasant surprise.”

Hanzo advanced on her with an arrow pointed at her skull. “Now, now,” she said. “I wouldn’t do that. You see, I have messages set up to send in five hours to all of the Talon higher ups. Those messages may or may not contain those files you came here to get back. I would guess that you would want me to stop those from sending, huh?”

“What do you want?” Hanzo growled.

“Oh, nothing much,” Sombra answered, folding her arms behind her head. “The leader of Los Muertos has been a bad friend lately. He thinks that he can run the gang just fine without my help. Now, his protege, the next-in-line leader, has been a much better friend. He gives me information when I need it and recognizes that its best to listen to me. All I want is for you all to take out the current leader. Easy. And, if you do a good job, I may even tell you some things you want to know.”

Jack scoffed. “If you think we’ll help you become the de facto leader of Los Muertos, then you--”

“We’ll do it,” Hanzo, McCree, and Ana said in unison.

Sombra clapped her hands together as Jack gaped. “Wonderful!” she said. “One against four? If you ask me, if just handing this one to you guys. Now here’s his photo. He always hangs out and plays pool at Madero Cantina.” Sombra slid two photos of the leader to the four of them. One of the photos featured him wearing glowing purple face paint in a skeletal pattern. The next was him without the paint, making his facial features clearer. The leader was bald and had a long, braided beard -- easy to recognize.

“How do we know you won’t send the files anyway?” McCree asked.

Sombra shrugged. “Believe it or not, I wasn’t collecting information for Talon when I hacked you guys. I was hired by an outside employer, one who pays really well. Talon doesn’t need to know about these files, but I wouldn’t want to be a bad agent, now would I? That’s why I need some incentive not to send it over, a tiny favor. But, if I were you, I would hurry up. The clock’s ticking.”

Hanzo turned and stomped out of the building. He heard the others wordlessly follow behind him. The sun was just beginning to set, weaving a tapestry of colors into the sky. It was almost as colorful as Dorado itself with its luminescent paints and decorations lining the streets. Hanzo felt his jet lag kicking in. What he wouldn’t give to just close his eyes and rest without a worry in the world.

Ana cleared her throat. “I will take out the target if you all lure him into the open. We can regroup back here after everything’s over. Sound good?”

“Yeah, and I think heading to the bar is our best bet,” Jack said. “Let’s get a move on.”

All nodded and began the trek back into the heart of Dorado. Once they located the bar in the middle of an empty street, having already wasted an hour of their time limit wandering streets and desperately asking for directions, Ana broke off from the group to find an ideal sniper nest.

Jack, McCree, and Hanzo entered Madero Cantina to an all-pervasive commotion which originated at the set of pool tables in the back of the bar. Smoke clouded the dim-lit room and the strong stench of alcohol hit Hanzo’s nostrils as soon as he entered the establishment. He doubted that they would have his first choice of alcohol here, but he reminded himself that drinking was not what they were here for.

Lucky for them, they found their target easily enough. He stood beside a cleared pool table, a stick in his fist as he hovered over a smaller man, shouting viciously. McCree leaned closer to Hanzo to whisper in his ear.

“Boss man’s accusing the other man of cheating,” McCree said. “Musta lost out on a bet and isn’t too happy about it.”

“What should we do?” Jack asked. They walked over and occupied three empty stools at the bar, casting ambiguous glances in the direction of the pool tables.

“Start a bar fight?” McCree asked with a smirk. 

“Any other ideas?” Jack asked.

“We just need to lure him out alone,” Hanzo said. “But it does not seem like he wants to leave quite yet.”

As Hanzo spoke, the boss walked over to the empty stool beside McCree and plopped down with a grumble. The bartender immediately provided him with a drink. 

McCree winked at Hanzo before turning and leaning towards the boss. “Estas si bien pendejo,” McCree said and then began speaking in Spanish so fast that Hanzo could barely make sense of the few words he did understand. Hanzo looked at Jack.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well, for starters, McCree just called the leader of Los Muertos a fucking idiot,” Jack whispered to him. “And now he’s insulting how he plays pool, is calling him a loser, yeah and _now_ he’s challenging him to a fight. Great.”

Through grit teeth, the boss growled something at McCree. McCree laughed and waved the bartender over. “He said it would only be fair if McCree were drunk too when they fought,” Jack translated.

McCree was given a shot of tequila which he immediately downed and waved for another. By the end of his fourth shot, McCree deemed himself suitably drunk. He slammed his shot glass to the bar counter and stood shakily. 

The boss stood and followed McCree to the door, cracking his knuckles. The man was chuckling as he watched McCree walk, knowing that, with McCree’s impaired state, he had already won this fight.

Hanzo sighed and spoke softly into his comm. “Ana, McCree is coming out. Our target will be right behind him.”

“Copy,” Ana said.

Hanzo and Jack sat in silence, waiting a minute after McCree and the boss exited the bar to follow them. They walked out onto the street and were greeted with the sight of McCree pulling the body into an alleyway. “Y’know,” McCree slurred, “I almost forgot we were killin’ ‘im. Was ready to fight the guy.” 

“Let’s go, Jesse,” Jack said. 

McCree nodded and stumbled after them. He moved close to Hanzo and wrapped his arm around the other man’s waist, gripping his side. “I woulda beat ‘im,” McCree slurred into Hanzo’s ear. 

Hanzo stiffened at the other man’s touch and turned his head away. Jack shot him an apologetic look. “I am sure you would have,” Hanzo said.

“Oh, I would’ve. Just for you, baby. Get you your shit back ‘n y’won’t have to cry no more. Just ‘bout broke my heart.”

“McCree…” Hanzo trailed off, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks partly from McCree calling him “baby” and partly from his embarrassment at the fact that Jack had heard it too. “You are drunk, and you should not pity me.”

“Ain’t pityin’! It’s carin’!”

Jack went around to the other side of McCree, prompting the cowboy to wrap his free arm around Jack’s shoulders to move them along faster. “Alright, casanova,” Jack said. “Let’s finish this mission.”

McCree rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

When they arrived back at the abandoned building, Ana was already there waiting for them. She took one look at McCree and shook her head. “Jeez, it was for the mission,” McCree said.

Hanzo chuckled and smiled at him, truly appreciative. “Thank you, McCree, for doing your best to help me.”

Hanzo could have sworn that McCree’s eyes shone at his words. In fact, his entire face lit up. McCree’s eyes crinkled as he smiled wide, emphasizing his crow’s feet. “It’s not a problem,” he replied.

“Alright, let’s go,” Jack said. The former commander pushed aside the now unhinged door to Sombra’s hideout. Ana followed after him, and Hanzo pulled McCree along. However, before Hanzo could even get McCree through the threshold, Jack moved back towards the doorway. 

“Well, this is all that’s left,” Jack said, handing a small note to Hanzo. 

On it was written: 

_Avenida la Turba 3--11_

_P.S. Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me...as long as you behave. ;)_

_-S_

Hanzo sighed. The thought of having to depend on Sombra to keep his memories private was almost enough to make him burst into a fit of laughter. He handed the note back to Jack. “Where is that address? Do you know?”

“It’s a main road not too far from here,” Jack replied. “We can get there in five minutes...maybe ten with Jesse.”

“I’m right here,” McCree said.

Hanzo nodded and hoisted McCree up. “Alright let’s go.”

As they walked, the had to listen to McCree sing a poor rendition of “On the Road Again.” The walk was short, as Jack had said, and the apartment building was luxurious compared to where they had just come from. It was built with yellow brick and stood tall, overlooking the city. 

Ana made quick work of picking the front door lock, and the three made their way to the second floor, apartment number eleven. Before Jack could even knock, the door swung open.

In front of them stood the white-robed assassin.

But that was only the beginning of their shock. As the assassin’s hood was removed, Hanzo felt his heart rate skyrocket. He nearly dropped his hold on McCree and fell to the floor, but he held himself upright, just barely. Although, he could not stop himself from hyperventilating.

For the first time in twenty-five years, he stood face-to-face with his mother.


	14. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Read for warnings-
> 
> ***  
> EDIT: I changed and added quite a few things to this chapter. I did not want to leave you all disappointed, and I care about your readership dearly! Now, I hope that it is much better and more enjoyable to you all. Love ya!!  
> ***
> 
> This chapter is shorter than the others...sorry! The next one will be from Genji's perspective and should be interesting/longer. Again, thank you all for your support. I'm never too confident with my writing, but you all are so nice and encouraging! Also, I went through and fixed some embarrassing spelling errors I just caught in some previous chapters, so thanks for putting up with that.
> 
> Warnings in this chapter (please avoid the italicized part if these are triggering topics to you): suicide (no major character death), child abuse, dead bodies

_Up until he was twenty-two, Hanzo had believed that his mother was watching over him somewhere -- perhaps she was protecting him from the afterlife, or, perhaps she was alive and watching him from the shadows, ready to jump into action when she saw that an innocent Shimada was in danger. He did not want to fully believe that she had abandoned him completely. After all, she had told him that she loved him the night that she left. Hanzo thought that, maybe, she had trouble showing that outwardly. Maybe she truly did love him and she had been there this whole time, making his life less miserable than it could have been. The possibility that his mother was out there and that she was thinking of him gave him a small sense of security in a world full of unexpected dangers._

_But, like with all things, even with a hope as small as this one, Hanzo was forced to let it go. He could only hold on to a hope for so long -- the sting of being let down too many times would burn his hands like acid, and, after a while, he could do nothing but tear his injured hands away and search for relief elsewhere._

_Hanzo was rarely shocked once he broke his twenties. He went about his normal clan responsibilities -- he led meetings regarding their finances, he sparred with Genji, and he killed men, nearly every week. Executions had become simpler for Hanzo to perform. He no longer gave in to the pathetic urge to cry and mourn the dead. Now, all he felt was emptiness and anger. Sometimes, the overwhelming nothingness and fury swirled throughout his body until his chest ached and head throbbed, but he refused to show such weakness. The pain had simply become a part of him._

_One afternoon, an emergency meeting was called. Hanzo sat at the meeting table to his father’s right, frustrated at the distraction from his duties. He had no time to deal with the petty squabbles of the lower-ranked clan members. Since the murder of Tetsuo, his temper had skyrocketed. The thought of doing useless, minor chores boiled his blood. He wanted to train, to fight, to put his skills to use._

_Once all were present, Sojiro waved his hand at one of Hanzo’s uncles. “Touma-san, will you explain why you have called us all here?”_

_Hanzo’s uncle stood. His face was stone cold. “I wanted to inform you and the rest of the superiors that Haru, my son, has just been found dead in the gardens near the back of the castle. It is apparent that he jumped from the upper story windows to his death.”_

_Hanzo frowned. He was always too busy with his duties to have had the time to get to know Haru. After all, the boy was many years younger than Hanzo -- he could not have been older than ten. “Why would he do such a thing?” he asked his uncle sternly._

_“I suppose he was not strong enough,” Touma said, scowling. “I had hoped to continue to honor the Shimada by training him with the same methods that your father used on you so that he, too, would have been blessed with two dragons. Forgive me for his weakness.”_

_Hanzo nodded and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Where is he now?”_

_“The body? It is in the gardens, covered with a sheet. A man is on his way to take the body soon and the wake is scheduled for tomorrow. The cremation will be the following day. However, nobody is obligated to attend.”_

_“Are you not going to watch the cremation?” Hanzo asked._

_Touma shook his head. “My son has failed me. Do as you wish, but I do not wish to be around him any longer.”_

_Hanzo stood. “Very well.” He strode out of the room and made his way to the gardens. It was not hard to locate Haru. He laid motionless on the ground far below one of the balconies. The sheet hid his body from the world, but blood stained the white cloth where his cousin’s head sat._

_Hanzo knelt down next to the body. Sighing, he gently pulled the sheet down to the boy’s neck. Lifeless eyes stared up at him, and blood coated Haru’s pale lips. The look in the boy’s eyes was of fear, as if he had spent his last moments dreading the second that he would hit the ground. Hanzo shook his head. The eyes should have been more relieved. With a steady hand, he slid the boy’s eyes closed. His hand lingered, absorbing the coldness of Haru’s skin._

_“I am sorry,” Hanzo whispered. He felt no sadness for his cousin. He only felt that overwhelming emptiness circling inside him like a black hole, sucking all feeling into its abyss. “Nobody will come for you, and I am sorry.”_

_He knew that this had to be his fault. If he had never received two dragons from his own brutal treatment, then his cousin would not have been forced to suffer through the same methods. This should have been him lying in the gardens. Oh how many times he had wished this to be his fate._

_“You should have been stronger,” Hanzo whispered, even quieter this time. He glared at the body. With his eyes closed, Haru looked more at peace. A steady stream of blood had begun trickling from his nose.“You should have learned.”_

_“You did not want this life, I know,” Hanzo continued, imagining that somewhere, the boy could hear him. “You wanted to play, to laugh and make friends, to love somebody who loved you back and did not strike you. You wanted your mother to read to you, for her to fix your hair and kiss your cheeks. And you wanted your father to smile at you, to be proud and take you to places where you would not get hurt. You saw your brother get these things and you wanted them too.”_

_He imagined the boy nodding. He imagined the boy, with tears in his eyes and a skinned knee, running to his mother for a bandage. But his mother turned him away and left him crying on the ground, wiping the blood away with his shirt. He imagined Haru being excited for the grand finale of his favorite cowboy show. The boy ran to make popcorn and asked his mother to join him. He wanted to show her all his favorite characters, and he had set up a front row seat, just for her. But his mother ignored him entirely, and Haru watched his show alone, hugging his knees to his chest and trying to enjoy it. Hanzo imagined the boy asking his mother for a story after his legs had been taken from him. The boy was only eight, but he had lost faith in the world along with his limbs. He wanted his mother to hug him, to tell him that it would be alright, that no more harm would come to him. Then she would kiss the pain away from his stubs and cradle him close to her heart. But his mother said “no” and left him in the dark._

_“I was wrong about you,” Hanzo said, imagining his mother hearing him. “You do not care for us. You would have let this happen to me, too. Are you watching now, mother? Are you watching? Did you see the scared look in this boy’s eyes? What he would have done for a hug, mother. What he would have done for a story.”_

_She was not listening. She could not have been. Or perhaps she was, and, as she sat hidden, she was begging for Hanzo to jump from the balcony too, begging for him to end his monstrous existence._

_“I cannot do it,” he said to nobody. “I am a coward, and I am selfish. I do not want to die disgraced by all. I just would want one person -- anybody -- to attend my wake. I want to die a better man, mother.”_

_The only answer he received was the whistling of the wind through the leaves. “Of course you are not there,” Hanzo said. “Not only am I a monster; I am a fool.”_

_Hanzo looked at the body of his cousin once more and took hold of the small hand in his own, rubbing his thumb over the boy’s ice-cold knuckles. Before departing, he thought Haru deserved one display of love, something he likely never received in life. Hanzo gave his cousin’s hand a light squeeze before allowing it to rest back on the ground. He covered the body with the thin white sheet once more and stood, walking back into the Shimada castle to carry out the rest of his daily duties._

* * *

Once he calmed down enough to see through the blurriness that clouded his eyes, Hanzo grabbed McCree’s arm and pulled the other man down the hallway and to the ground floor of the apartment building. He did not stop until they were outside and away from the ghostly face of his mother. McCree, in his drunken stupor, stumbled to keep up with Hanzo. “Woah, woah!” he kept shouting. Once Hanzo finally let go of his arm and slumped against the door to the building, McCree turned to him. “What was that about?”

“She is alive,” Hanzo mumbled.

“Who is?” McCree asked, stepping closer to Hanzo. “Who was that, Han?”

“My mother, Shimada Akari.”

“Aw, shit.” McCree rubbed the back of his neck.

“We need to get out of here,” Hanzo said, grabbing McCree’s arm again.

McCree took hold of Hanzo’s shoulders. “Now hang on a sec. Ana and Jack’ll detain her. No need t’run.”

“She will take me back to them,” Hanzo said, looking beyond McCree and tugging against his grasp. “No, that does not make sense. She left them, too, right? No, she has come to take me to Talon. She has--”

“Han, nobody’s takin’ you anywhere,” McCree interruptted. “Now, let’s just take her in and question her. See what’s goin’ on. That sound good?”

Hanzo clutched his head and tried to stop the swirling thoughts and the ringing in his ears. He suddenly felt like he had not slept for days and that, at any moment, he would pass out into McCree’s arms as he did back in the dining area some time ago. Back when McCree hated him. Or did McCree still hate him? At the moment, he could not recall. Hanzo stared at the man in front of him. His mind was fuzzy, and he had trouble focusing on any single thought for more than a second. Thoughts of his cousin, Tetsuo, his father, Genji’s mangled body, all of his mistakes flashed through his mind like lightning. Then he thought of McCree shouting that he would never trust Hanzo, that he would never let Hanzo watch his back. 

“Why...why don’t you hit me?” Hanzo asked. He wanted the other man to make everything stop and put an end to his panicked thoughts. After McCree hit him, then he could kiss him and make everything alright again, and Hanzo could melt into that kiss and feel relief wash over him.

McCree’s eyes went wide. “Hanzo, what the hell are ya talkin’ about?”

Hanzo honestly did not know where his mind was at. He spoke the first words that came to him. “When I arrived, you treated me with malice. Now, you are kind to me. If you are being nice so that you may gain my trust and then finally give me what I deserve, then you need not wait--”

McCree pulled Hanzo close and held him to his chest. He shushed him and rubbed his back, as he did before they had left for the mission. “Nobody’s takin’ you anywhere, and nobody’s hittin’ nobody. You’re not in your right mind right now. It’s gonna be okay; you’re safe.”

A moment after Hanzo clung to McCree and breathed a sigh a relief, inhaling the cowboy’s smokey scent, the apartment building door opened. Hanzo detached himself from the other man and whirled around to face Ana and Jack leading his mother outside in handcuffs. Jack nodded at him. 

“What are you doing here?” Hanzo spat at his mother. He tried to stand tall and show her that he was not afraid, that he had turned out fine, despite her fears. He took a moment to fully take in her appearance. Her hair had turned completely gray, and her skin was wrinkled, especially under her eyes.

Hanzo’s mother looked at him, and he could not help but take a step back. She frowned. “I will talk when we are not out in the open,” she said. She even sounded older, a raspiness present in her voice that Hanzo did not remember.

Hanzo absentmindedly reached for McCree’s hand and gripped it tightly. He took comfort in McCree’s warm touch — it was grounding, safe. He was happy when a moment passed and the other man did not pull his hand away.

“Alright, let’s head out,” Jack said. As they called Tracer and walked back to the ship, Hanzo noticed Ana looking at him with soft, worried eyes.


	15. Love is Patient, Love is Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **EDIT**   
> The kudos hit 666 just in time for Halloween. Thank you!
> 
> First of all, apologies if you aren't that into Gency, but there are certainly hints of it in this chapter. This pairing contributes to the larger storyline eventually, so it's not all for nothing. I hope you'll continue reading.  
> Also, I will respond to all of your comments on the last chapter as soon as possible. There are not really warnings in this chapter other than the typical references to child abuse. 
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read and support. Love you <3 <3 <3

Genji sat at the corner of the break room table, faceplate sitting to his right as he slowly sipped his tea and watched Angela pace back and forth. The doctor clutched her head in her hands as she walked and ignored the mug of tea, now lukewarm, that Genji had made for her. She had barely slept, and, upon hearing that the four missing agents would soon return home from their mission, Angela’s stress skyrocketed. 

“That was a quick mission, was it not?” the doctor asked him. “Maybe something happened.”

Genji shook his head and gently took hold of Angela’s arm the next time her pacing brought her close enough to him. He guided her down into the empty chair next to him and pushed the mug of tea towards her. “I understand that you’re worried, but you should take care of yourself. There is nothing we can do from here.” 

Angela stood back up and went to the breakroom fridge from which she grabbed a bottle of gin. She trudged back to the seat and plopped down, pouring a generous amount of the alcohol into her tea before taking a gulp.

“You are that worried about my brother?” Genji asked with a frown. “You know he is a skilled fighter.” 

Angela sighed. “I’m not worried about his skill; I’m worried about…what he will do if the mission doesn’t end up completely successful.”

Genji cocked his head. “My brother is stubborn. He--” 

“You don’t understand, Genji.”

“Then explain to me,” Genji said. He cast his gaze downward, wishing he knew more about his brother. Since arriving at the Watchpoint, Hanzo had been distant, seemingly avoiding Genji at all costs. When Genji appeared in a room, Hanzo was quick to avert his gaze or leave the room entirely, and when joining the team outings, Hanzo was sure to remain a few paces away from his younger brother. It was hard for Genji to believe that Hanzo was even trying to reconcile with him at all. Despite Zenyatta’s assurances that Hanzo was working hard, Genji felt that, in regards to Hanzo’s relationships, it seemed as if his brother was putting in the bare minimum of effort. 

He watched Angela take another large gulp of her tea. “I do not want him to feel hopeless,” she continued. “The things that Hanzo has experienced are very traumatic, and the possibility that Talon could have extensive information on those experiences could be detrimental. I felt that I was just making progress with your brother, and now...I fear that he’s feeling worse and even more at a loss, all because of me. I don’t want him to do anything rash; I don’t want him to hurt himself.”

“His memories were that bad, then?” Genji asked.

She nodded.

“Can you tell me anything?”

Angela pushed some stray strands of hair behind her ears, avoiding Genji’s gaze. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I understand,” Genji said quickly, not wanting to stress the doctor out even more. “Allow me to rephrase. What do you think I can do to help him. I...I just want to be brothers again.”

After a moment, Angela smiled to herself, as if just realizing something. “You know,” she began, “I am not able to see Hanzo’s positive memories. So far, within his distressing memories, you rarely appear, and if you do, it is only in passing. Now, I have not seen what happened on that day.” The doctor paused and ran a hand down one of Genji’s cybernetic arms. “If you do not want me to see, then I won’t. But, the fact that you barely appear in his memories to this point indicates that he has many more positive memories with you. As for what you can do to help him, there is little that I feel comfortable asking of you. Despite everything, he harmed you, and that had to have altered your mental state. However, if you really want an answer, I would tell you to be patient with him, and, please, do not give up.”

Genji leaned back in his seat and smiled softly. “I do remember many things from our childhood together that I look upon fondly. He would often steal my toys when we were very young, but I think that he saw how upset that made me. One day, he came to my room with armfuls of stuffed toys that he had been smuggling from a nearby store. He and I played with them for hours, and, in the end, he let me keep them all. After that, he would occasionally come to my room at odd hours to play with me. I would look forward to those times, and I think he did as well.”

“I…” Angela trailed off, staring intently at Genji. “Tell me another.”

Genji rested his hand on top of the doctor’s and nodded. “I found that Hanzo often fell asleep very quickly when he was comfortable. As children we would watch movies together on the television in my room every once in a while when Hanzo was not busy. Every time, Hanzo would fall asleep, and at first I remember being frustrated because he would miss all the best scenes. I came to find it endearing after some years; I took it to mean that he trusted me.”

Angela’s head sunk lower until it was resting on the table. She squeezed Genji’s hand and offered a small smile. “You are a good brother,” she said softly.

“I hope that Hanzo and I can be close like that again. I hate this awkward tip-toeing around one another.”

“You will be,” Angela said, pulling Genji’s hand close to her mouth to plant small kisses on his knuckles.

Genji smiled back at her and nodded. He hoped that the doctor was right, and he could not help but put all of his faith into her kind words. Hanzo was the only family that he had left, and Genji wanted them to, at the very least, trust one another. Just as he moved to brush a thumb over Angela’s cheek, Genji’s communicator pinged with a message from Winston. He was to meet the returning agents at the hangar to assist in handling “unforeseen circumstances.” Genji’s smile slowly dissolved, and he gave Angela an apologetic look.

“Duty calls,” she told him. “Do not worry about me.”

Genji stood and walked to the doorway. “I cannot help but care for you deeply,” he said, chuckling. With a blush, the doctor waved him away, and Genji left to meet his fellow agents.

* * *

Genji quickly made his way to the hangar, and Winston greeted him with nervous glances as if the commander were struggling to maintain eye contact. “Err…” Winston began once Genji approached. “What was your relationship with your mother like?”

Of all the questions that Genji thought he would hear, he never would have imagined Winston asking that. “…It was…good,” Genji said, replacing his face mask so Winston would not see his confused expression. 

“Wonderful!” Winston said. “Well…maybe wonderful. Honestly, I’m not sure how you will react to this.”

Genji tilted his head. “To what?”

“Well, it turns out, and this is a crazy coincidence, but it seems like, uh—“

“Please, Winston.”

“Right! Well,” Winston paused, scratching the top of his head. “It seems as though your mother was the white-robed assassin and has been detained by our agents. She is on her way back to the Watchpoint now for questioning.”

Although Winston could not see it, Genji’s jaw dropped. “My mother?” he asked, unsure if he heard the commander correctly.

“Yes, uh, Akari Shimada.”

Genji took a seat right there on the floor. “I thought she had died.”

Winston nodded. “Apparently Hanzo did as well.”

“She is working for Talon?” Genji asked. “That does not sound like her.”

“Well from what Jack briefly explained to me, it doesn’t seem that she was working for Talon. However, we will hopefully get more information soon.”

Genji breathed out a sigh of relief. He knew that his mother could not be a member of Talon; she was much too kind-hearted. That did not erase the possibility that she murdered various gang leaders, although Genji supposed that was better than harming innocents. He could not decide if he was excited or overwhelmingly anxious to be reunited with his mother.

About thirty minutes later, Tracer landed the Orca and parked it in the hangar. Genji stood as the door opened and the walkway slid down to touch the ground. Jack exited first, and behind him stood, side-by-side, Ana and his mother, in the flesh. Genji gasped as he saw her. As Ana and Akari’s friendly conversation drifted, his mother’s gaze landed on him, and Genji saw her eyes go wide.

His mother sped up her pace and, moving past Jack who attempted to reach out a hand to stop her, she moved to Genji. In a single movement, she jumped over her handcuffed arms, bringing them in front of her, and she looped Genji into an embrace.

Genji felt tears well up in his eyes as he returned the hug. His anxiety left him as he melted into his mother’s arms, feeling like a little boy again. He had not realized how much he missed her. “You recognize me?” he whispered to her.

She nodded against his chest. “I recognize you, Genji. You have grown so much.”

Genji squeezed her and let out a sob. “Where have you been?” he choked out.

“I have—“

“Hold on,” Jack interrupted. “I want to get these answers recorded. Let’s continue this conversation in the interrogation room.”

Genji scoffed at the former commander, but listened nonetheless. As he looked beyond Jack, he finally noticed Hanzo and Jesse emerging from the ship. His brother looked exhausted, like he was a zombie, barely conscious. Jesse gave Genji a worried look, and Genji shook his head. He was not exactly in the mood for Hanzo’s personal problems at the moment, having just been reunited with his long-lost mother. Genji knew that that was wrong of him, that he should go and support his brother with whatever it was he was going through at the moment, but the younger Shimada simply did not have the mental energy. He wanted to bask in the happiness of his positive reunion. He wanted to not feel stress, if just for a little while.

So, Genji followed the party to the interrogation room, staying close by his mother all the while.

* * *

A recording device had been set up, and Ana and Genji sat across from Akari in the small room. One large mirrored window lined the far wall, and Genji knew that Winston and Jack were on the other end, waiting as back-up in case anything went wrong. Although Genji expressed his frustration at the formal situation, he knew that it was customary. 

His mother agreed to have Ana offer questions as well, stating that she could sense a kindred spirit in the older Amari. Ana was happy to comply and had carefully removed Akari’s handcuffs before they took their seats.

“I know you must be very confused,” Akari said as she looked at Genji. “Please allow me to explain myself.” 

“Of course, mother,” Genji replied.

“I escaped from the Shimada clan decades ago, as you know, and, in your mind, that meant my death. I am sorry for leaving you in the dark for all these years.” Genji nodded slowly, and his mother went on. “Your father was desperate to catch me, not so much because I ran from him, but because I…stole valuable resources. However, I easily evaded the Shimada assassins’ attacks, and, for many years, I wandered, at a loss. Eventually, the assassins stopped coming, and I took that to mean that your father had died. Ten years ago, I returned to the Shimada castle, seeking answers only to find you and your brother were both gone. I thought you had been killed.”

Ana nodded, and perked up as if just piecing something together. “You became angry?” she asked. “You began killing those who resembled your former husband?”

Akari paused for a moment before nodding in return. “I became an assassin, killing powerful and malicious leaders with children. Eventually, that caught the attention of Olivia.”

“Sombra?” Genji asked.

“Yes. She saw how skilled I was and how well I worked with my dragon. She wanted me on her side.”

Genji frowned. “What did you tell her?”

“She offered me information in exchange for ‘favors.’ She would provide me with profiles of people to kill, people who had gotten on her bad side. In return, she gave me information about Hanzo and you, Genji.”

“So why did Sombra have _us_ kill the leader of Los Muertos instead of you?” Ana asked.

“That would have been bordering on Talon activity. Sombra let on that Talon had plans in Dorado, plans that began with Los Muertos. She wanted the Los Muertos leader killed so that, after the plans were enacted, she could rule the city.”

“What are these plans?” Genji asked.

“I do not know details, only that Talon is presently working with Los Muertos,” his mother answered.

“Thank you, mother,” Genji said.

Ana then leaned forward. “Why were you and Hanzo not as happy to be reunited?” she asked.

Akari sighed and rubbed her temple. “Is it because you found out what he did to me?” Genji added. “I assure you, I’ve forgiven him, mother.”

“It is more than that,” Akari said. “Hanzo and I were never close, we had never been allowed to be. I never formed a bond with him like I had with you. It is unfortunate, but true. His life has been difficult, and I did nothing to alleviate it.”

“What…do you mean?” Genji asked. Now that he thought about it, he could not remember really seeing his mother and Hanzo together. All of Genji’s happy memories with her had only been with her.

“Your brother was given certain responsibilities that you were not, and I was not permitted to be around him often. I was, however, allowed to take care of you,” Akari said, offering Genji a small, sad smile. “Yes, I am furious about what he did to you, but I also cannot find it in me to be as excited about seeing him as I am about seeing you.”

The words made Genji’s heart drop. “Do you not care how he’s been?” he asked softly.

Akari frowned deeply. “I do. I just do not think it is my place to ask him. It would be uncomfortable for the both of us.”

“You are his mother,” Genji whispered.

Seemingly sensing that the situation could spiral out of control, Ana stood and put a hand on Genji’s shoulder. “I think that is enough for today. Unfortunately, Akari, you will need to stay in a holding cell for now. Do not worry, though, it is rather comfortable and I could bring you some tea.”

Genji stood as well. His mother quickly embraced her youngest son once more. “I’m sorry if you are upset,” she said. “Please know that I love you and your brother both.”

Genji slowly hugged her back and sighed. “I love you too, mother. I would very much like to catch up with you in a more casual setting. Perhaps Hanzo would join me.”

After a moment, Akari kissed her son’s forehead. “I would like that,” she responded, and Genji immediately softened his expression, imagining them all being a family once more.


	16. Don't Give Up, Don't Give In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Before I get into the story, I'd like to address a couple of comments I received about the last chapter! I did delete these comments because a) the criticism was not aimed at being constructive, and b) the comments were kinda depressing for me to look at due to the angry/insulting tones. However I figured I should address them so it doesn't seem like I'm ignoring concerns! The comments were in regards to how I presented Genji in the text and how I seemed to make him into a villain despite him being the one who was killed by his brother. It was not my intention at all to present Genji as an antagonist in the previous chapter. I wanted to show that he was a complicated human with complicated emotions which were still incredibly valid. This fic is something I'm writing for fun, for coping, and for audiences to enjoy, and it is also focused on Hanzo. My intent is not to ignore Genji by focusing on Hanzo; I just want to politely explore a headcanon that Hanzo also suffered from abuse while offering a dialogue of complicated emotions and discussing the effects of abuse. I'm sorry if I've offended anyone, but know that I do not have malicious intents towards Genji or any of you. I also do not mind criticism in the slightest as long as it is given in a polite manner!
> 
> That being said, I receive SO MAnY wonderful comments on the previous chapter which, as usual, I will try to respond to as soon as possible! I appreciate you all so so so sosososoooo much <3 <3  
> Apologies that I took a bit longer to get this out. I've been incredibly busy lately hahaha.
> 
> Thank you and please enjoy! <3

The old-fashioned clock on the wall ticked softly as Hanzo sat on the couch in the lounge, a cup of steaming chamomile tea on the coffee table in front of him. McCree sat to his left, occasionally casting worried glances in Hanzo’s direction. It was the morning following their mission to Dorado, and Hanzo felt hungover although he, surprisingly, had not turned to alcohol to alleviate his panic at reuniting with his mother. His head and muscles ached, his eyes felt painfully heavy, and his stomach was in knots. At the very least, Hanzo felt that his mind had recovered from the shock – he could think straight again, giving him the opportunity to ponder over yesterday’s proceedings.

Once again, he realized that he had embarrassed himself in front of McCree by spewing nonsense and obviously craving the other man’s touch. McCree had been kind enough to let Hanzo rest on his couch once again, although he had barely slept a wink, but Hanzo knew that the cowboy had to think him crazy. He was not sure why he spiraled the way that he did, why he got lost in the past upon seeing his mother’s face and briefly lost track of reality. Hanzo normally had better fortitude and control over his mind, and the loss of that angered and frightened him. Hanzo sighed and picked up the tea McCree had made for him, taking a small sip and wishing it was full of sake instead.

“I am sorry,” Hanzo said as he placed his mug back down onto the table.

“For what?” McCree asked.

Hanzo shook his head, wishing McCree would either accept his apology or tell him off. Instead, McCree wanted him to elaborate, and he barely had the energy to drink his tea let alone talk about his feelings. “For acting strange yesterday,” Hanzo finally said.

“I think you were in shock, doll. Nothin’ to apologize over. ‘Sides, it’s a reasonable thing t’be shocked over, y’know?”

Hanzo quietly sighed once more and eyed the floor. He felt McCree scoot a bit closer to him. “Uh, so, your mum seems kinda cold. No wonder you were upset,” McCree said, barely above a whisper.

Hanzo knew that the other man was trying to make him feel better, and for that he was thankful. However, at that moment, Hanzo wanted nothing more than to be entirely alone and too drunk to think at all. No, scratch that. He wanted McCree to keep him from thinking. He wanted McCree to grab him and push him against the wall with a knee between his legs, to suck on his neck as Hanzo cradled his head close, fingers running through his hair –

His thoughts were interrupted as Fareeha and Lena entered the room, chatting amongst themselves. They only noticed Hanzo and McCree after they had entered, and their conversation immediately died down. Hanzo had yet to be in close quarters with either of the women, but he could already tell be Lena’s glare that she was not a fan of him.

“Hello,” Fareeha said, eyes darting between the men, seemingly unsure if she should simply ignore them or move to another room.

McCree smiled and tipped his hat as Hanzo nodded his greeting. Fareeha looked down, and Hanzo frowned. He did not want to deal with this right now. He did not want to see how his mere presence made others angry or uneasy. He moved to stand, but Fareeha was stepping towards him, causing Hanzo to pause in surprise.

She sat to the other side of Hanzo and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, uh,” she began, fumbling for the right words, “I think I kind of know a little bit about what you’re going through right now.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow, and Fareeha continued. “When I was a child, Ana left me too. For years, I thought she was dead, and I was heartbroken and alone. When she came back into my life once more, I…was shocked to say the least. I didn’t know what to say to her, and I felt betrayed. My mother abandoned me, and it felt like she did it without a second thought. I felt…unwanted. I wished she would have taken me with her.”

Hanzo stared at her, shocked to hear her words match his own feelings almost entirely. “I’m sorry if that’s the way you’re feeling now. I can’t even begin to understand their motivations, your mother and mine, but I just keep telling myself that they did it to protect us,” Fareeha added.

“My mother has never loved me,” Hanzo said, shocked at himself for telling them something so personal. He did not know why he said it – he did not need their pity.

Fareeha and McCree both frowned. “I am not saying it to upset you,” Hanzo added quickly. “It is simply the truth, and I am not bothered by –“

He was interrupted by McCree’s gentle arms pulling him into a hug. Hanzo’s entire body suddenly felt warm, and his dragons purred under his skin with delight. McCree motioned for Fareeha to join in, and after a few moments of consideration, she did, leaving Hanzo comfortably sandwiched between their bodies. He felt as though he could fall asleep right then and there.

McCree then laughed and motioned for Lena to join in the group hug. She bit her lip and shifted her eyes away with a furrowed brow, seemingly holding back a scoff. “Jesse, you realize you’re babying a murder, right?” she asked.

And, just like that, the warm feeling left Hanzo. He should have learned by now not to get too attached to it.

“Lena, stop it,” Fareeha said, much to Hanzo’s surprise.

“Yeah, I ain’t babyin’ nobody,” McCree added with a scowl. “I’m just givin’ a person the care he deserves.”

“You’re babying this…this…terrible person,” Lena spat.

McCree stood. “So, for you, an evil person is someone who prolly suffered abuse his entire life and was, in _Genji’s own words,_ forced to kill his own brother?”

“How can you say he suffered abuse when he mauled Genji nearly to death?! If anyone deserves to be babied, it’s Genji.”

McCree grit his teeth. Hanzo could not ever remember seeing him so upset. “We all love and care for Genji. Every damn person here does! But the moment one person shows an ounce of love to Han, it’s too much?”

“You’re excusing murder!”

“I am fuckin’ not!” McCree barked. “Things are just more complicated than you think they are, Lena. We’ve all murdered. You’ve certainly killed someone’s brother on the battlefield, just because we told you to, because we told you it was the right thing to do.”

“Those are bad people,” Lena said. “It’s different.”

“Doesn’t change a thing. They’re still dead people.”

Lena growled. “Well I didn’t fucking maul them, Jesse!”

McCree sighed and softened his voice. “I just think Hanzo deserves a chance, Lena. He’s trying, and things are more than what they seem.”

“I don’t have to give anybody a chance if I don’t want to,” Lena said, and stomped from the room.

Fareeha and McCree both shot apologetic looks in Hanzo’s direction. He shrugged, not understanding why they were shocked by Lena’s reaction. All of what she said was the truth, and Hanzo knew that he was selfish for enjoying the care that others provided him with.

“This will happen,” Fareeha offered. “You can’t let it make you quit trying to be better, okay?” 

“I have not quit thus far, and I do not plan on doing so, at least not now,” Hanzo said.

Fareeha nodded and patted Hanzo on the shoulder once more before standing up and walking towards the door. She stopped and looked back at him with a small smile. “I here if you want to talk about your mommy issues.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo said with a nod. Fareeha nodded back and left McCree and Hanzo alone once more.

McCree expelled his breath with a long, low whistle. “See?” he said. “People care about ya.”

“Hm,” Hanzo sighed, staring at his forgotten tea. It was likely too cold to finish now. “McCree?”

“Call me Jesse.”

“Jesse?”

There was a pause before Jesse answered. “Yeah?”

Hanzo took a breath. “Do you care about me?”

Jesse let out a chuckle. “’Course I do. You saved my life and proved to me more than once that you’re tryin’. I know I can trust ya. You’re a good man, Han.”

With his last statement, Jesse patted Hanzo on his knee, but his hand lingered. Hanzo felt his entire body get warm. He looked at Jesse to find that the other man’s eyes were already on him. Hanzo’s eyes darted to Jesse’s lips and then back those beautiful gray eyes. They were like pools of molten silver, stunning and powerful. Jesse’s hand moved to cup Hanzo’s cheek, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone. Hanzo immediately leaned into the touch.

But instead of moving closer and finally connecting their lips, Jesse pulled back, eyes downcast and hand falling back to his side. Hanzo reached up and felt the spot on his cheek where Jesse’s warm, loving hand had been.

“You doin’ okay?” Jesse asked softly.

Hanzo quickly stood, glaring down at the cowboy. He should have known this would happen, that Jesse would be too disgusted by him to ever love him. He was angry, mostly at himself for believing in such fantasies in which he could live happily with another.

“I am tired,” Hanzo said through grit teeth. “I am going to nap.”

“I can walk ya—“

“No,” Hanzo said. Jesse looked up at him with unreadable eyes. They revealed little emotion, but Jesse’s upward slanted eyebrows told him that perhaps the other man felt guilt. Hanzo shook his head and stomped from the room.

* * *

Hanzo did not return to his room to nap. Rather, he wandered the Watchpoint aimlessly, in search of a means to occupy his time. He considered training before he noticed that Lena among others already occupied the training grounds. So he simply walked, trying to clear his mind and focus on his breath while avoiding any interactions.

He soon stumbled upon his brother and Angela’s voices discussing something in earnest. The two could be heard through a cracked door for one of the conference rooms. Hanzo knew he should not eavesdrop, but his curiosity peaked at hearing his name, and he sneakily approached the door for a better listen.

“It’s just hard for me to wrap my head around it, Ang,” Genji said, sounding exasperated. “That my mother, the only person who was ever consistently kind to me growing up, could be so cold to another.”

Angela sighed. “I know it’s hard for you to hear. She was a good mother to you and treated you well. This doesn’t invalidate your own experience. Just know that Hanzo likely experienced something very different from what you previously thought.”

“Is it bad that I’m still happy to see her?” Genji asked, at a loss.

“Of course not. You loved her very much, and she was the one who made you feel happy and protected growing up. It’s hard to forget that.”

“I just…” Genji trailed off and was silent for a moment. “I want to talk to her again today. What’s your opinion on bringing Hanzo with me? Maybe if he’s with me, she will be kind to him and give him the support he craves.”

Angela paused. “I don’t think it’s the best idea,” she said. “I would like to talk to him about what he experienced upon seeing Akari. From what I’ve heard, her presence triggered many unpleasant feelings in Hanzo. I think he needs time to process—“

Before Angela could finish, Hanzo stepped into the room. “I will come with you,” he said as both Angela and Genji stared at him.

Angela shook her head and stood. “Hanzo, it’s not a good idea. You don’t have to talk to her.”

“I want to,” Hanzo responded with a growl.

Angela looked between Genji and Hanzo. “Well, then, I am coming with you.”

“Very well,” Hanzo said, secretly relieved that Angela offered. “I would like to go now.”

“I…okay, brother,” Genji said, standing as well.

Hanzo nodded and was sure to stand up straighter as he returned his gaze to Angela. “And, Dr. Zielger. Before we leave, I would like to apologize for my outburst the other day. The hack could not have been foreseen, and I appreciate all the help you have provided to me. I will be forever grateful.”

Angela’s face brightened with her toothy smile, like a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She nodded. “Thank you, Hanzo.”

The three turned to venture to the holding cells, Hanzo feeling a painful dread climbing up his spine.

* * *

As the group of three arrived at Akari Shimada’s cell, they heard a faint chatter and the soft clanking of glass mugs against a table. They turned the corner to face Akrai’s cell and found her chatting with Ana over tea. The two joked and laughed, leaning back in their seats. 

Angela cleared her throat to announce their presence. Ana and Akari quieted, and Ana stood at seeing who had entered. Jack came over to unlock the cell door and let Ana out. As the elder Amari walked past them, her eyes lingered on Hanzo. She gently squeezed his arm and gave him an encouraging nod before leaving the room.

Jack allowed Genji, Angela, and Hanzo to enter before he locked up the cell once more and stood off to the side. The three sat across from Akari, and Hanzo saw that his mother was frowning slightly, refusing to meet his eyes.

“So, mother, you are well today?” Genji asked.

Akari nodded, and her smile returned. “They treat me kindly.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Genji said.

Akari’s eyes drifted from Genji to Angela, skipping over Hanzo. She chuckled. “And who is this lovely young lady?” Akari asked Genji. “A friend of yours?”

“Mother,” Genji groaned while Angela blushed.

“I am Dr. Zeigler,” Angela replied.

“Oh, a doctor!” Akari beamed. “Genji, you are quite the charmer. I am proud.”

Hanzo’s frown deepened, and he watched his mother from the side as she smiled. He considered for a moment the possibility that he had truly turned invisible. Was it so hard for her to look at him?

Genji seemed to notice this too, for his embarrassed smile turned to a frown. “I’ve brought Hanzo along,” he said. “He wanted to see you.”

“Hm,” was Akari’s response. She was biting her lip and Hanzo continued watching her, hoping that she would simply look at him, and, finally, she did. As her eyes met her eldest son’s, Akari’s demeanor immediately shifted, her face scrunching up as she burst into tears.

Hanzo’s mouth hung open in shock. Angela leaned forward and placed a hand on Hanzo’s back. “Mrs. Shimada, what is wrong?” she asked.

“He looks so much like his father,” Akari responded through sobs.

Hanzo shuddered and looked down at the floor. “That is what you have to say to me?”

There was silence save for the sound of Akari sniffling and sobbing. Tears rolled down her cheeks and onto the wooden table below.

Hanzo took a breath. “All I ever wanted was for you to love me. I saw how you were with Genji, and I wanted that. You have no idea how badly I wanted it, how I _needed_ it. Do not dare compare me to that man. He cared nothing for love.”

Another sob. Genji stared at Akari in horror.

“Is there anything you’d like to say to your _son_?” Angela asked, her voice growing louder.

“I do not know what he would have had me do! From the moment he entered this world, he was his father’s,” Akari cried.

Hanzo shook his head. “Why did you not take me with you the night you left?”

“They would have hunted me down with twice the manpower, Hanzo,” she said, seeming to choke out his name.

“You simply did not want me!” Hanzo shouted. “Admit it. When I was a weak, pathetic boy who had just lost his legs, even then you would not hug me!”

“I did not want to get attached. I knew what you would become.”

Hanzo pushed down his own tears. He would not let her get to him. “Then why did you not kill me?!”

Akari paused to wiped away some tears with the back of her hand. “If I had known the extent of what you would become, what you would do to your brother, maybe I would have.”

Hanzo recoiled as if shot. Genji shouted at his mother, and she pleaded and reasoned with her youngest son, attempting to get him to see her side of things. Hanzo stood. He could not argue with her words, for he knew they were true. He tried to think of what Angela would advise him to say, anyway. The doctor was staring at him with caring, supportive eyes, and he tried to channel her advice.

“The real monster here is you. Do not speak to me again,” Hanzo said and stomped away. Angela and, surprisingly, Genji followed close behind him.


	17. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy! Here's another chapter! I edited some of the text to a different format, so let me know if it isn't showing up right on your end and I'll fix it. I feel like I keep saying this, but I really appreciate you all so much. I wouldn't have found the motivation to keep writing this if it wasn't for your support, so thank you!!  
> Also, as usual, I'm a chapter behind on replying to comments, so I'll jump on that real soon, but thank you all for the thought and kindness you put into the comments you leave. ;u;
> 
> Warnings in this chapter: brief references to child abuse and suicidal thoughts

With every passing day Jesse further suspected that Hanzo was avoiding him. Jesse had felt that he and Hanzo were just beginning to form a stronger bond; they chatted often, ate meals together, or just simply sat with one another, enjoying the quiet company. Now, when Jesse entered a room that Hanzo was already occupying, it was not long before the other man slipped away off to God knows where. Hanzo would no longer even make eye contact with him, leaving a strong, throbbing pang of sorrow in Jesse’s heart.

He would be lying if he said that he did not immensely enjoy Hanzo’s company. He was easy to talk to and truly listened to whatever Jesse had to say. Jesse found that too often people brushed him off, deeming him a bumbling idiot simply due to the way that he spoke. He found himself basking in the attention Hanzo gave him, delighted that the other man never seemed to judge him based on class status, or anything at all for that matter. Hanzo was empathetic and seemed to be trying his hardest to make everyone feel comfortable around him.

Jesse could not help but want to give Hanzo all of the positive attention that he deserved. He felt drawn to Hanzo, and he was not sure what to make of those feelings. Sure, Hanzo was immensely attractive; Jesse had seen that upon first meeting him. It was Hanzo’s caring, understanding personality that made Jesse feel like he had fallen for him. Hanzo was trying so hard to make things right, so much so that he often forgot to take care of himself. Jesse was familiar with the feeling, and he wanted to shower the man with hugs and kisses, to hold him close and see him smile, to remind him that he deserved love too.

But Jesse knew that Hanzo was in a vulnerable place right now. He was unsure if Hanzo only accepted his embraces and light physical affection because the man was not in his right mind. Perhaps Hanzo would recover from his deep depression and find that he was never really interested in Jesse to begin with; he simply craved the touch and attention of anyone, and there was nothing special about Jesse. Jesse did not want to take advantage of Hanzo’s affection while he was in such a sensitive state.

So he sought out Angela. Jesse knew that the doctor and Hanzo had become rather close and that she knew more about his mental state than anyone. He wanted to ask her opinion on the matter of his romantic interest; would it be wrong to pursue a possible relationship or was he overthinking things? Either way, Jesse did not want the other man to feel bad; he wanted to show that he only cares for Hanzo deeply.

 _Cares for Hanzo_. It was something that Jesse would not have believed would ever happen a month ago. But back then, he believed that Hanzo was nothing but a cold, arrogant soul, focused on redemption simply for the sake of absolving his own name and not to make Genji feel better. Now he knew that Hanzo’s habit of isolating himself stemmed from the thought that he did not deserve to be in good company. Hanzo cares nothing for his own name; he lives to make others happy. Jesse had never met anybody so selfless, selfless to the point that it became unhealthy. Hanzo was a doormat – another reason why Jesse was hesitant to pursue a relationship. The man did whatever was asked of him just to make people happy and proud. Jesse wanted Hanzo to reciprocate his affection because he truly wanted to, not because he felt like he had to; he wanted Hanzo to care for himself like he cared for those around him.

Jesse walked into the breakroom, and, sure enough, Angela, Genji, and Hanzo were all present. They sat at a table in the corner, each with a mug of either coffee or tea. Hanzo was smiling along with his brother, something that brought a smile to Jesse’s face as well. However, when Hanzo noticed Jesse’s presence, the smile slowly left his face and his gaze turned downwards.

Genji and Angela looked to Jesse soon after, faces neutral. Jesse sighed and turned to pour himself a mug of coffee. He definitely needed some caffeine in his system. With a full mug of hot, black coffee, Jesse faced the group once more only to see that Hanzo had moved from his seat and was on his way out of the room.

Jesse reached out an arm and landed a hand on Hanzo’s shoulder before the other man could rush past him. Hanzo froze, seemingly conflicted on whether he should lean into the touch or run away.

“Hanzo, d’ya wanna talk?” Jesse asked softly, hopeful.

Hanzo slowly laid a hand over Jesse’s and paused there for a moment. Jesse held in a breath feeling the warmth of Hanzo’s hand, wanting to hold it and kiss his knuckles. Hanzo sighed and shook his head. He gently pushed Jesse’s hand away and walked out of the room.

Jesse rubbed a hand over his eyes and exhaled. He looked Angela and Genji, finding that they had been watching him closely. Angela waved him over and invited him to take a seat.

“So,” Angela began as Jesse plopped down, setting his coffee in front of him, “what was that about?”

Jesse grumbled and took a gulp of coffee.

“There’s no heterosexual explanation for what I just saw,” Genji added.

“I think I messed up,” Jesse said. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m in a bit of a predicament here.”

Angela hummed. “Hanzo has shared a few things with me, but I would like to hear your side of the story first.”

“I –“ Jesse paused, groaning. He hated talking about feelings and fought the urge to brush everything off with a quick joke. “I was gonna kiss him, but then I thought about it more and backed away. He looked real upset. Just don’t wanna take advantage of him when he’s in a bad place.”

Nodding, Angela took a quick sip of her drink. “You are very respectful, Jesse,” she said. “But Hanzo believes that you did not kiss him because you remembered you were disgusted by him and that you simply experienced a moment of weakness. He thinks that he does not deserve you.”

Jesse’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t—“

“Perhaps you should talk to him,” Angela added. “He’s just a bit upset, but he is not fragile. He’s powered through unspeakable things and has a very strong mind. You should be honest with him and share your worries.”

“Yeah, you’re right as usual, doc,” Jesse mumbled. He shifted his gaze to Genji to see if the younger Shimada had any further input.

“I’m still stuck on the part where you said you wanted to kiss my brother,” Genji said with a chuckle.

“Wanna kiss him real bad—“

“Ew, stop—“

“Wanna hold him—“

“Jesse—“

“Got a real nice ass—“

Genji covered his ears and groaned, dramatically resting his face on the table. “This is so weird. My good friend trying to get with my brother. The world’s gone mad.”

Jesse laughed then raised an eyebrow at Genji, suddenly nervous. “You’re just messin’, right? Does it really bother you?”

Genji shook his head. “Of course not! As long as you both are happy, I’m happy. I’m just shocked is all. I didn’t even know my brother was gay until he came to us, gushing over you.”

Jesse’s face lit up. “He was gushin’ over me?”

“He sure was,” Genji said. “Talking about how handsome and what a good person you are.”

The three of them smiled at one another, and Jesse feared that he looked like a gossiping teenager. It was nice to hear that Hanzo talked positively about him when he wasn’t around. It made Jesse feel warm inside; he felt wanted and he sought to hold on to the feeling for as long as he could. Jesse felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he ignored it for the time being.

“I just wish I knew him better,” Genji added suddenly.

“It will happen,” Angela said, rubbing Genji’s back. “Give it time.”

Jesse nodded. “Yeah, I think we’re all strugglin’ a bit here, but you’ll get closer again. I know it. How’s the situation with y’all’s mother?”

“Bad,” Genji said, and Angela sighed.

Jesse looked at him, questioning. He felt his phone vibrate once more.

“I am seeing a side of her that I had not seen before,” Genji elaborated. “The way that she treats Hanzo disgusts me to say the least.”

Angela frowned. “I really think you should talk to him, Jesse. He cares about you.”

Again, Jesse’s phone vibrated, and he considered that it may be Hanzo trying to get ahold of him. Jesse stood suddenly. “You’re right,” he declared. “I’ll find him.”

Angela and Genji smiled, wishing him luck. Jesse quickly gulped down the rest of his coffee and rushed from the room. Once in the empty hallway, he checked his phone and was shocked to find that the messages were not from Hanzo at all. Jesse looked around and rushed to his room as he read.

`[UNKNOWN]` ``

`My, my, Jesse McCree. So you have a little crush? How cute.`

`[UNKNOWN]`

`Well, I have some information that may interest you, then.`

`[UNKNOWN]`

` _ unnamedvideos1-8.mp4 _ `

Jesse rushed into his room, shutting the door behind him, and he began typing frantically.

`[Jesse]`

`Who the hell is this? How did you hear all that?`

`[UNKNOWN]`

`;)`

He began checking his clothing to see if he had been bugged. When he found nothing, Jesse decided that the person had been listening through his cellphone and that he should dispose of the device immediately. However, the attachment file intrigued him, and if it had something to do with Hanzo, Jesse wanted to check it out and make sure the other man was safe.

A million thoughts raced around in Jesse’s head before he clicked the file. _What if it’s a virus. I’ll get rid of the phone anyway, so it doesn’t matter. What if it’s an invasion of Hanzo’s privacy? What was the reason it was sent to me? Is it important that I should be the one to see it and no-one else?_

The first video began to play, and Jesse noticed that it was from a first-person perspective. It looked like a birthday party, and various people handed wrapped gifts to a small child in a woman’s lap, a woman who looked an awful lot like Akari.

Jesse paused the video and tossed his phone onto the couch as if burned. He immediately knew what the videos were and who had sent them. Jesse’s heart was beating out of his chest, and, breathing deeply, he slowly approached his phone once more.

`[Jesse]`

`Why would you send me these?`

`[UNKNOWN]`

`Trust me, they contain important info. I’m doing you a favor.`

`[Jesse]`

`Give me one good reason why I would even consider watching these.`

`[UNKNOWN]`

`Even better, I’ll give you three. You’re curious, you want to help Hanzo, and you know less about him than you think. ;) I won’t tell.`

Jesse groaned and gripped his hair. He had not expected to be faced with such an ethical conundrum today. He supposed one of the videos wouldn’t hurt to watch. Jesse sat down on the edge of the couch and slowly pressed play, resuming the first video.

The small boy, Genji he supposed, was unwrapping presents as Hanzo watched. Jesse guessed that Hanzo was becoming more impatient by the second, for his gaze flickered left and right, occasionally pausing on his mother’s face. His mother spared him no glance, giving all of her attention to Genji as he unwrapped the gifts.

Hanzo became angry as Genji unwrapped one particular gift, one of a cowboy action figure, and Jesse heard Hanzo’s tiny voice start shouting, wondering aloud why he never received any toys.

Hanzo was dragged out of the room by his father as his mother and Genji stared. Jesse saw the tears clouding Hanzo’s eyes, making his vision blurry. Hanzo was pulled into a hallway and slapped across the face. Jesse flinched along with him. Hanzo’s small body was pushed to the other side with a sharp slap to his opposite cheek.

Jesse paused the video again, feeling anxiety rise in his chest. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and shook his head. “Nope, not fuckin’ watchin’ that.”

His phone buzzed.

`[UNKNOWN]`

`Aw, what a shame. I would reconsider, though.`

`[UNKNOWN]`

`Wouldn’t you rather watch them than have all of Talon see?`

`[Jesse]`

`Is that a threat?`

`[UNKNOWN]`

`I’m willing to let you be the keeper of these secrets, but that’s only if you get familiar with them. Otherwise, I’ll just have to send them along to someone else, and who knows who that person might be. Maybe Genji, maybe Doomfist…`

`[Jesse]`

`What are you gaining from this?`

`[UNKNOWN]`

`An interesting afternoon. Now go on.`

Jesse knew he should inform Winston or _anybody_ really about the situation, but, if truth be told, he was worried. He saw how upset Hanzo was about his memories being stolen, and the last thing he wanted was to tell Hanzo that his personal traumas had been sent along to Talon because Jesse was too self-righteous to watch them himself. Jesse growled and laid stretched out on the couch, banging his fist on a cushion.

Then he picked up his phone and pressed play.

* * *

The meeting had been called that evening, and all agents sat or stood along the wall in the meeting room as Winston and Akari droned on about Talon’s plans to infiltrate Los Muertos and possibly take over Dorado. Akari detailed the hierarchy of the gang and Sombra’s close ties to the new leader while Winston took notes. Akari, who had been deemed an asset to them rather than a huge threat, was allowed out of her cell from then on but was still to undergo constant surveillance. She was given a room and was permitted to stay as long as she helped with taking down Talon in Dorado. After that, well…Hanzo was not sure what would happen. Perhaps his mother would leave, or perhaps she would join Overwatch to stay close to Genji. Hanzo dreaded the latter.

Hanzo found himself crammed in the packed room, standing next to his mother. She paid him little mind aside from a small nod in greeting when he first arrived. It was more than he was used to.

“I have a feeling that they’re planning something big,” Akari said to the agents. She went on to detail her theories and possible courses of action.

As she talked, Hanzo saw Jesse enter the room. Nobody seemed to notice that he was late, but Hanzo found himself staring. Jesse looked fatigued; without his hat, the cowboy’s hair was a disaster, and he had a tired, sad look in his eyes. He suddenly met Hanzo’s eyes, almost like he was searching for the other man, and Hanzo saw that he was frowning deeply.

Jesse pushed past a few people to get to Hanzo, inserting himself between him and Akari. Hanzo looked away, but his attention was pulled back to Jesse as the man gently gripped Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo gasped quietly as Jesse gave his hand a small squeeze.

Hanzo looked around the room, but no-one seemed to be paying them mind. No-one except for his mother. Winston had begun speaking, forming a plan and discussing who he was sending on a mission to gather information from Los Muertos. All the while, Akari stared at Jesse and Hanzo’s linked hands, mouth slightly agape. Hanzo watched her, and his mother slowly looked up to meet his eyes.

At the very least, she did not frown at him disapprovingly. She simply studied him for a moment before nodding and returning her attention to Winston. Hanzo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. Jesse rubbed a thumb of the back of his hand.

Hanzo interlocked their fingers, wondering what had come over the cowboy. Not that he was complaining. He found himself wondering, however, why Jesse would want to show him affection in public like this for no reason at all. Hanzo suddenly feared that people were staring at them, and, looking down, he slowly pulled his hand away from the warmth of Jesse’s grasp.

“So I’ll send Lucio, Tracer, Pharah, and McCree to Dorado to gather more information,” Winston finished. “You’ll leave tomorrow evening, so prepare yourselves.”

Hanzo frowned at hearing Jesse’s name. As the room began to clear out, Akari stood and paused for a moment in front of Hanzo. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. His mother resumed walking and left the room along with the trickle of other agents.

Hanzo heard a quiet sniffle and raised an eyebrow. He looked over at Jesse, eyes widening when he saw tears flowing down the cowboy’s face. Jesse was shaking and looked to be trying his hardest to keep the tears in, but they kept coming. Hanzo gasped, wondering if Jesse was crying because of something he did, because he pulled his hand away.

Hanzo reached out and took hold of Jesse’s hand once more, squeezing gently. “What is the matter, Jesse?” he asked hurriedly.

Jesse suddenly wrapped his arms around Hanzo, pulling him close and cradling Hanzo’s head to his chest. Hanzo hugged back, listening to the rapid pounding of Jesse’s heart through his soft flannel shirt. Breathing in the strong scent of tobacco and coffee on Jesse’s clothes, Hanzo let the sound soothe his mind. They stayed like that for a while, just holding one another in silence.

Jesse planted a small kiss to the top of Hanzo’s head as he finally pulled away, eyes clear of tears. “Feeling better?” Hanzo asked.

Jesse chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, thanks doll. I…I guess I’m just a bit overworked.”

Hanzo nodded back, not quite believing that that was the sole reason for Jesse’s outburst but also not wanting to push. “Well, I am here…if you ever need to discuss anything.”

Jesse did not meet his eyes, and they stood in silence for a moment. “I might take you up on that offer…soon,” Jesse finally said. “For now, I need a drink. Care to join me?”

Hanzo allowed himself a small smile. “I would be glad to.”

Smiling back, Jesse motioned for Hanzo to follow him out of the meeting room. Hanzo walked close behind, sensing that something was terribly wrong. For now, though, things were calm, and Hanzo had learned to appreciate moments like these – the quiet, almost peaceful moments. They could not last; they never did, but Hanzo tried not to think about it too much. For now, he was with Jesse. For now, they were safe, and they were happy. Hanzo had no idea what the next days would bring; he never did, and sometimes the dread made him want to simply end it all. But the moments like these, moments when he was in good company and could simply exist, content, gave him the motivation to carry on.


	18. The Dragon Brothers (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I decided to split this memory into two parts because it would've been a lot to include in one. I love you all and hope you're still enjoying! Also, is there an Overwatch community on Twitter, or is it pretty much dead? I'm thinking of making one but I'm not sure hahaha  
> Thank you sosososoooo much!
> 
> Warnings in this chapter: death (minor character), manipulation

His evening spent with Jesse had been nothing out of the norm. They drank under the stars on the roof of the com tower – Hanzo his sake and Jesse his whiskey – they joked, and they chatted, their conversations ranging from meaningless banter to incredibly serious heart-to-hearts. Jesse dropped some more details about his time in Deadlock, unprompted but welcomed by a supportive Hanzo. Apparently Jesse was a high-school dropout from a poor family, and he came to view working as more essential than completing his education. He was a mechanic for a short time before Deadlock picked him up, taunting him with the promise of more money. Hanzo had rested a hand on Jesse’s shoulder and offered some information about himself in turn to make the cowboy feel a little less alone. As Hanzo told Jesse, he too was manipulated at a young age under the guise of duty. Jesse had refused to meet Hanzo’s eyes as he spoke, but he was not shy of physical affection. The arm he had wrapped around Hanzo’s waist as they sat side-by-side left a warm feeling in the pit of the archer’s stomach. Hanzo eventually came to rest his head on Jesse’s shoulder, and they stayed like that in silence for quite some time.

The rest of the night had been uneventful, and, oddly enough, Hanzo was not plagued by his usual nightmares and slept rather soundly. He woke to a message from Angela asking if he could meet that morning to discuss how they should progress with their remaining therapy sessions. In all of the commotion, Hanzo had nearly forgotten about the therapy and Sombra’s hack. He sighed and sent Angela a quick affirmative text before rising to brush his teeth.

Hanzo received another message as he went about his morning routine and was delighted to find that it was from Jesse.

`[Jesse]`

`Hey sweetheart, thanks for passing the time with me last night. You’re mighty good company.`

Hanzo chuckled and found himself reading the messages with the cowboy’s accent. He quickly typed out a reply, hoping that Jesse did not think he responded too quickly.

`[Hanzo]`

`You flatter me. I enjoy your company as well.`

`[Jesse]`

`Glad to hear it. What do ya say we do it again when I get back from Dorado? I’ll probably have more to talk about then.`

Hanzo could not tell if Jesse was attempting to ask him on a date or was simply being friendly. He decided it was likely the latter, but he felt his face heating up with a hot, red blush nonetheless. He mentally scolded himself, giving himself a reminder that Jesse likely only viewed him as a friend in need of physical affection.

`[Hanzo]`

`I would be glad to spend more time with you.`

Hanzo set his phone down with a sigh. He had noticed that the immense amount of physical contact he had with Jesse was certainly pushing the bounds of a platonic relationship. The idea, however, that Jesse _wanted_ him seemed farfetched to Hanzo. Jesse comforted him and perhaps even lusted after him, but Hanzo knew that he himself was not the type of man who people truly liked. He was not the type of man who others loved. At best Hanzo was a skilled fighter, and at worst he was a kinslayer, a murderer, a monster. Love was not in his destiny. Perhaps his mother was right – perhaps Hanzo was taking after his father more than he thought.

Hanzo walked over to his bathroom mirror and studied himself. Wisps of gray hair grew near his ears, and he brushed over them with his fingers. Hanzo leaned closer to the mirror and examined his face. His gaze landed on the dark under eye bags and the bridge of his nose. Hanzo had always hated his nose, and Tetsuo’s frequent negative comments about it had stuck with him, even after all these years. He sighed; at least his beard was well kempt. Beyond that, Hanzo felt overwhelmingly ugly. Hanzo could not believe he had been going out in public so often looking like this; he could not believe he had even considered that Jesse was attracted to him. A painful throbbing was growing in his head, but Hanzo figured that he should meet with Angela before he lost his motivation altogether. He tied his hair back and threw on some sweatpants before venturing from his room.

Angela was in her office hard at work on her laptop when Hanzo entered. She looked up as he entered and offered a small smile. After typing a few more things, Angela finally stood and walked over to meet him.

“How are you holding up,” she asked, looking him in the eyes.

Hanzo shifted his gaze. “I am well enough.”

“Truly?”

Hanzo frowned. “It has been a crazy few days. Perhaps I am not as well as usual.”

Angela nodded. “Thank you for being honest. I wanted to apologize for what your mother said to you the other day. It was –“

“No apology is necessary. Her reaction was expected.”

“I…” Angela paused and shook her head. “You handled everything very well. I’m proud.”

 _Proud._ It was a feeling that Hanzo deeply craved from others. He felt that he needed it like one needs food and water. There was no better feeling, no better mental nourishment, than making another proud of him. “Thank you,” he finally said, bowing his head slightly.

“I invited you here to discuss a few things about your upcoming therapy sessions,” Angela said. With a nod from Hanzo, she continued, “I want to start by saying that you do not have to carry on with the memory extraction method, of course. I should have been more prepared for something like the hack; it was very irresponsible of me. Winston, Hana, and I have been working on our security program, and I believe we’ve got to a point where Athena can undergo more sophisticated security measures under the threat of a similar situation. We’ve programed her to store all important documents in a separate, even more guarded system in the event of a hack. Also, I will no longer store any patient documents on my personal laptop. I’ve bought separate flash drives for each of my patients. I am currently working to improve the memory extraction machine so that it converts the documents faster, and I was planning on testing it on myself this morning to record the progress. Anyway, I recommend that you continue your therapy, but it is up to you how we proceed.”

Hanzo thought over Angela’s words. On one hand, he feared stealing more memories that could possibly be used against him, but Hanzo also did not want to manually retell his experiences. The idea of him walking Angela through his traumas step-by-step, of having to relay to her the gritty details rather than her simply watching them for herself, made his stomach fill up with dread. Talking about his feelings was one thing, but Hanzo did not want to be present for the recounting of events.

“I would like to continue as we were. I trust you,” Hanzo finally said.

Angela gaped. “Are…are you sure? You do not have to, Hanzo. I was certain you would say no.”

“As I said, I wish to continue with this method.”

Frowning, Angela reached out and squeezed his hand. “You do not have to prove anything. If you are comfortable continuing, then that is alright with me, but nobody is forcing you.”

Hanzo sighed. “I am aware. In fact,” he moved towards the chair in the room of Angela’s office beside which sat the small EEG electrodes for extracting the memories, “I wish to test it now.”

“Hanzo, I…” Angela shook her head. “I will test it on myself. I don’t want to use it on patients until I’m one-hundred percent positive that the system will not fail again.”

“But what of your own memories? I am a willing patient; you should not put yourself in danger.”

“Hanzo—“

Hanzo paid her no mind as he sat in the chair and picked up the jumbled wires of the electrodes. “I trust you,” he said, holding out the wires to her.

Angela slowly took the wires from him and began wordlessly sticking the devices on certain spots along his skull. Hanzo leaned back and moved his head where Angela needed him to, and after a moment, she finished. “Hanzo, I’m not certain about this.”

“It is not like it will be a different process from before,” Hanzo replied. “As long as you can assure that my brain will not be fried, I am good to go.”

“That I can assure,” Angela said, her small smile returned. With one final nod, the doctor walked away and turned off the lights. Hanzo lied there, waiting for his body to fall into the confines of a deep slumber.

* * *

_When he was twenty-five, Hanzo stood at his father’s bedside in the hospital as the life faded from the man’s eyes. He suffered from sudden cardiac arrest, and as the family waited for the ambulance to arrive, Hanzo watched as Sojiro’s dragon tried to keep him alive._

_Hanzo had heard of this in his studies, of the Shimada dragons working to keep their hosts alive in their dying breaths. They writhed and fought hard under the host’s skin, trying to recharge the heart and soul. The dragon was the only reason why Sojiro survived beyond a few minutes. Hanzo knew that once the dragon deemed Sojiro a lost cause, it would leave the host, traveling back to its own realm of existence._

_Sojiro died the following day in the company of close clan members. Hanzo watched as the fire-red spirit dragon exited his father and traveled up, passing through the roof and shooting into the sky._

_Hanzo did not feel sorrow when his father flat lined. He wondered if that – not caring about his own father’s death – made him psychopathic. He was empty aside from the fear that was beginning to seep into his veins. He was now leader of the clan. He was to take on his father’s responsibilities. He was in charge of this Hell his family had crafted._

_Following the death of Sojiro, Genji became more distant, and Hanzo rarely saw his younger brother. Genji left and returned to the castle at odd hours of the night and never attended the meetings Hanzo planned. It had not made Hanzo angry – not at first._

_A year passed before the elders came to Hanzo regarding his brother’s behavior. At first Hanzo thought it was perhaps grief that was driving his brother’s actions. Then he learned from his uncle what his brother had truly been up to._

_“Your brother has been passing on information to Overwatch,” his uncle said. “He is trying to bring us down. You must deal with him.”_

_Hanzo took in the words, mouth opened in disbelief. His own brother was trying to betray him? Hanzo shook his head, unwilling to believe that, after all the things Hanzo had endured and worked towards, Genji would have him assassinated or rotting away in a jail cell. He always believed that Genji was there for him, that his brother was the only one he could truly trust._

_But Hanzo realized that he did not truly know Genji. The past few years, he had rarely spent any time with his younger brother. It was idiotic of him to trust the man simply because they were blood. How had he not learned by now that nobody was to be trusted?_

_“I will talk to him,” Hanzo growled._

_That night, when he approached Genji, his brother was already dressed to go out. He had recently dyed his hair neon green, and it reminded Hanzo a lot of their front lawn. Hanzo stood in the doorway of Genji’s messy room, arms crossed._

_Genji frowned when he finally noticed Hanzo’s presence. “Do you only ever look at me all disappointed like that?” Genji asked, turning away from his brother once more to fix his hair in the mirror._

_“Where are you going?” Hanzo asked, matching Genji’s scowl._

_“Out.”_

_“Out where?”_

_“To a bar, Hanzo,” Genji sighed._

_“Do not play stupid,” Hanzo growled. Genji turned to him with an eyebrow raised._

_“What?” Genji asked._

_“I know where you are truly going.”_

_Genji huffed. “Yeah? And where would that be?”_

_Hanzo shook his head. Was Genji really going to keep up this act? “You are selling information about our clan. You are trying to bring us down.”_

_Genji stared at Hanzo, appearing truly confused. “You’re delusional,” Genji said. “You’re…you’re crazy! Where did you get this shit from?”_

_Hanzo suddenly felt doubtful. Had he truly trusted his uncle’s words so quickly? Perhaps Genji only was going out with friends. Hanzo felt his chest seize up; he did not know who to believe. He shook his head and mumbled for Genji to behave himself before turning from his brother and walking away, ashamed._

_He hoped nothing would come from Genji’s outings. For another whole year he ignored his brother, hoping that the elders would not approach him with more negative information. For another year, he was lucky. The clan faced no obstacles, no Overwatch agents infiltrating their ranks. When Genji walked by, Hanzo saw the elders whispering to one another and shooting glares, but for a while nothing more happened._

_The next year his uncle returned to Hanzo's office, slamming down a picture in front of him. Hanzo flinched and then moved to study the photo. It was of Genji standing on top of a table in a dimly lit club, pouring champagne down his throat as a woman shoved a yen note into his waistband. Hanzo sighed and clutched the bridge of his nose._

_“This is making us look terrible,” his uncle growled. “Something must be done.”_

_“I’m not sure what you would have me do,” Hanzo mumbled._

_His uncle scoffed. “Sojiro would have had this dealt with by now. You only ignore the problem.”_

_“As I said, I am not sure what you would have—“_

_“Hanzo,” his uncle sat down in front of him, “Genji never received the same discipline as you. He never received guidance. Akari softened him, and now we are paying for it. You’ve battled through the years, becoming stronger and better, whereas your brother has skated by. He lived in luxury, and he has become spoiled. If you do not put an end to the behavior, someone will have to.”_

_Hanzo stared down at his hands. He knew that Genji had always been spoiled. His brother was never punished; he never received much negative attention at all for that matter. Hanzo supposed his uncle was right; the soft treatment Genji had received went to his younger brother’s head, and now he was harming all of their reputations._

_“I will talk to him,” Hanzo said._

_“You better,” his uncle replied before standing and stomping away._

_Hanzo felt a sense of déjà vu as he stood in his little brother’s doorway, watching Genji get ready that night for another routine outing. He had no idea how Genji had the energy to party almost nightly; Hanzo could barely keep his eyes open after the sunset. He was always exhausted, but Genji seemed to have a never-ending flow of fuel running through him. Hanzo became frustrated just thinking about that simple fact, and he cleared his throat loudly to get Genji’s attention._

_Genji whirled around to face him, looking spooked. When he saw it was Hanzo in his doorway, Genji rolled his eyes and resumed getting ready. “What is it?” he asked._

_“We need to talk,” Hanzo spat._

_“We’re talking.”_

_Hanzo grunted and stepped closer to Genji, shoving the photo in his brother’s face. “What is this?”_

_Genji took the photo to look at it from a better angle. “That’s me,” he answered with a shrug._

_“And what are you doing exactly?”_

_“Having fun,” Genji said. “You should try it.”_

_“I do not have time for such pointless frivolity—"_

_“Is that why you never pay me any mind anymore?” Genji growled. “Because I’m pointless and not worth your time?”_

_Hanzo stared. “What are you on about?”_

_“You just, what? You think you’re better than me now that you’re the ‘leader’? That’s why you don’t care to be around me?”_

_“You are twisting this back to me,” Hanzo growled. “The problem is with you. You cannot behave like this.”_

_“Or what?” Genji asked. “Your little den of dragons is going to kill me? Do you honestly agree with everything they say, Hanzo? How can you want to work for them?”_

_“I do not work for them,” Hanzo said. “They work for me.”_

_Genji shook his head. “You really can’t see how they push you around? How they control you?”_

_“ **Nobody controls me!”** Hanzo yelled with wide eyes, pointing a finger in Genji’s face. Genji took a step back, gaping. “I…Nobody controls me…” Hanzo said again, quieter this time._

_“Then come with me tonight,” Genji whispered._

_Hanzo gasped, caught off-guard. He knew he could not. He was much too busy; there was no time and absolutely no energy for partying. “No,” he whispered back after a moment._

_“I knew it,” Genji said with a sigh. “I’m leaving.”_

_Genji grabbed his wallet and passed Hanzo on his way out, not sparing him another glance. Hanzo did not watch him leave, but he heard Genji’s footsteps slowly grow quieter. Once he was sure his brother was gone, Hanzo glanced around the room, taking in Genji’s décor. There were many action movie posters and rock band merchandise lining the walls, and Hanzo noticed that the color scheme of nearly everything was black. Eventually Hanzo’s eyes landed on a photo that rested on Genji’s TV stand. He approached the frame and saw that inside was a picture of he and Genji, standing side-by-side. Hanzo remembered when it was taken; it had been a particularly good day, following one of their training sessions during which they had performed particularly well. Sojiro had taken it as he was overwhelmed with pride. He and Genji were both smiling, Hanzo with his arms crossed and Genji in a much more relaxed position._

_Hanzo missed days like those when his stress was not debilitating, and despite Genji not believing him, he missed spending time with his brother. Hanzo picked up the frame and thought about taking it; he wondered if Genji would notice its absence. Perhaps Genji would soon rid himself of the memento anyway._

_Hanzo shook his head and set the frame down, deciding against swiping it for himself. He turned to leave the room, sparing one final glance at the photo before he closed the door behind him._


	19. The Dragon Brothers (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Happy belated Thanksgiving (if you celebrate it) and Indigenous People's Day. Here's the dreaded chapter. We're up to nineteen chapters, and for the nineteenth time, I want to say how grateful I am for your comments, kudos, and overall support! Love ya!
> 
> Major Warnings in this chapter for: violence, attempted murder, attempted suicide

_By the time he turned twenty-eight, Hanzo was overcome with the same intense anger he felt following Tetsuo’s murder. It replaced his emptiness, growing within him slowly and painfully, feeding off of his insides like a parasite with unquenchable thirst. Every misstep frustrated him, and anything from a butchered clan meeting to a spilled drink had him growling and pacing with fury. The pressure of his father’s job was getting to him, he knew it. Every day he worked himself to exhaustion, and the only results he saw were death, pain, and suffering. For Hanzo’s entire life, he had been trained to take on the position of clan leader, to be proud of inheriting such a title, but nothing good came from it. Death surrounded him; it had long since become a normalcy. He could not escape it, could not run from it. Instead, he became the bringer of death. How could he prevent it when it was his duty; how could he avoid it when he had spent his entire life learning to perfect murder?_

_Hanzo hated it, but he loved it. He loved the pride the clan showed every time he proved his strength. He craved that pride like a drug. They thought of him as a strong leader because he killed. They respected him. They treated him like a person. He loved it; he hated it. He was a monster. He killed innocent people. It was wrong. But what if it wasn’t? They treated him like it was right, like it was the only thing he did right. Was the only thing he did right wrong? Of course it was. But…_

_Thinking of such things made Hanzo angry. He was taught not to question the clan’s motives and mindsets, yet he did anyway. Constantly. He attempted meditation to empty his mind, but his thoughts hounded him the most when he was in silence. Hanzo blamed his dragons. They were always telling him to run from the clan, to escape to a new life. “Leave, Hanzo,” they would tell him in unison. “This place is no good for you. It is killing you.”_

_He believed they were lying. They would like to see him dead so that they could finally be free of his body. If he left, then who else would possibly take him in. He was a monster surrounded by death. This is where he belonged._

_Hanzo’s uncle approached him for a third time one evening regarding Genji’s behavior. He entered Hanzo’s office shouting, saying that Genji had slept with a rival clan leader’s daughter, that any hopes of forming a partnership were demolished. Hanzo did not care, but his uncle did, and Hanzo wanted the man to stop shouting at him. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep and never wake up._

_Hanzo approached Genji about the ordeal. Genji brushed it off._

_The following week, Hanzo’s uncle was shouting about Genji spending too much money. He also still believed that the younger Shimada was discussing information with Overwatch. “I had the guards destroy his belongings as a punishment,” his uncle said. “Since you will not do a thing yourself.”_

_“Why would you not consult me?” Hanzo demanded._

_“You are a coward,” his uncle said. “He should have been disposed of long ago.”_

_Hanzo ran to Genji’s bedroom to assess the damage. He bumped into Genji in the hallway. He could not remember the last time he and his brother had stood face-to-face. Genji’s was a frustrated shade of red, and the fluff of green hair made him look like a tomato. He wanted to ruffle his little brother’s hair and laugh with him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Genji spat. “Having your goons demolish my room. You’re insane.”_

_Hanzo said nothing and pushed around Genji. He ran to his younger brother’s room and found the door busted in. He moved it out of the way and looked at what appeared to be the aftermath of a tornado. Ripped posters, torn clothing, and broken glass lined the floor. Stuffing from the pillows and mattress were strewn about the room. Hanzo clambered over the destruction, and he finally found what he was looking for._

_The old picture of he and Genji sat on the floor, torn and crumpled within the shattered frame. Hanzo picked it up and held it to his chest, ignoring the broken glass. He could not have this, the normal brotherly relationship displayed in the photograph. He was a fool to cling to it. Genji destroyed it._

_Hanzo suddenly threw the picture across the room, and it bounced off of the wall, the frame shattering even more._

* * *

_The following morning, Hanzo rolled out of bed; he had not slept a wink, but he knew that Genji would be coming home this morning, having stayed out all night. Hanzo grabbed his katana and went to find his uncle._

_“I am not a coward,” Hanzo said, standing over his uncle as the man ate breakfast. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword._

_His uncle looked him up and down. Hanzo willed himself to kill the man, to strike him down as he had with so many people before. But he did not. He simply stood up straighter and dutifully as his uncle studied him. The other man smiled and nodded._

_“Then do what must be done, or I will,” his uncle said._

_Hanzo waited at the entrance to the shrine room for his brother to return. As his younger brother stumbled inside, clutching his head and likely hungover, Hanzo threw a spare katana at his feet. Genji stopped and stared at him._

_Hanzo drew his own sword without a word and pointed it at Genji. The other man’s mouth hung open in shock. “Hanzo, what are you doing?” he asked, slowly pushing the blade of the sword away from his body._

_“Fight me,” Hanzo said, returning the aim of his weapon to the center of Genji’s chest._

_“I’m not going to fight you, Hanzo,” Genji spat. “What the hell are you talking about?”_

_So Genji was still being difficult? Fine. Hanzo swung at his little brother – a warning. Genji quickly backed away, avoiding the blow. “Hanzo! What are you doing?!”_

_“You will not listen,” Hanzo growled. “I tried to get you to stop with your behavior, but it is useless.”_

_“My behavi…Hanzo, this is crazy!” Genji scooted out of the way of another blow and quickly picked up the katana Hanzo had thrown him. “You’re going to kill me because I’m not listening to your orders?”_

_“You’re a threat to the clan and to me,” Hanzo replied, watching Genji draw his own weapon._

_Genji shook his head. “Hanzo, not everybody is out to get you. You don’t trust anybody! I’m trying to do what’s best for me and for—“_

_Hanzo swung again, nicking Genji’s shoulder and drawing blood. The younger Shimada hissed in pain. “Why should I trust anyone? Why should I trust you?”_

_“Believe it or not, but I care about you,” Genji said, letting his sword hang by his side. “But every time I look at you, I see that you’ve changed more. It scares me. You stopped being a brother to me long ago. You’re just…a yakuza boss who lives in my home.”_

_“What did you expect me to do?! I was born to assume this position!”_

_Genji took a step forward with his hand outstretched. “Hanzo, let’s leave this place. Please. I am only here for your sake, and I don’t know how much longer I can bear being within these walls. I know they ordered you to do this. You don’t have to, brother. You don’t have to do anything.”_

_Genji was here for him? If that were true, they would have had this conversation years ago. Genji would have approached him and hugged him and asked how he could make life easier for his older brother. Genji was only speaking softly now because he had a sword to his throat. Hanzo saw it in his eyes – Genji was terrified. Terrified of him, a monster. He did not mean a word of this. Tears built up in Hanzo’s eyes. “You’re lying,” he said._

_“I’m not,” Genji whispered, tears forming in his own eyes._

_“Why didn’t you just stop making us look bad? Why couldn’t you just listen to me?” Hanzo asked._

_“Who is this **us** that you keep talking about, Hanzo?! I don’t want to be a part of all of…this!” Genji sobbed, gesturing around him. “Why do you think you have to do this?”_

_“I was made to kill. It’s what I am.”_

_“Hanzo,” Genji took a slow step forward, “you keep saying it’s why you were **made**. You’re not an object.”_

_Hanzo shook his head and kept his sword pointed at Genji. “You would not understand.”_

_“Hanzo, please,” Genji said through tears, taking yet another step closer._

_Hanzo sobbed and slowly let his katana fall to his side. The moment that his guard was down, Genji pounced, knocking Hanzo to the ground with a roundhouse kick and then sprinting away towards the castle gates. Hanzo fell on his shoulder with a surprised cry. From the ground, he watched Genji run with all of his might. The anger in Hanzo grew. For Genji’s entire life, he had received loving treatment while Hanzo suffered; he did not care. He did not care about the clan, about appearances, about Hanzo. Hanzo felt surges of energy throughout his body, pulsating with his swarming thoughts. He looked down at his hands to see blue crackling electricity jumping from his palms and fingertips. With a furious scream, Hanzo released his dragons._

_The beasts flew from Hanzo’s body, growing until they became gargantuan. They rocketed after Genji, their bodies intertwining, an ancient dance. Hanzo watched as the dragons struck his brother down; the beings began mauling him with their giant teeth and claws. Genji shrieked for what seemed like an eternity._

_When the dragons returned to Hanzo’s glowing body, he could sense their overwhelming distress, their fury. “You made us kill him,” they screamed._

_Hanzo glanced from a distance at the mangled, lifeless body of Genji. He thought of the excitement he felt when his family announced that he would be an older brother; he had dreamt of playing with Genji, teaching Genji, making Genji smile. When Genji was finally born, Hanzo was overcome with joy, perhaps the greatest joy he had ever felt. His little brother had gripped Hanzo’s finger in his chubby hand, and right then Hanzo vowed to protect Genji._

_Now he was dead. Hanzo had killed him._

_Hanzo stood, sword still clutched in his hand. Behind him, he heard clapping. Hanzo whirled around to see his uncle and a few elders spectating, looking at him with large smiles. The smiles no longer looked beautiful to Hanzo; they were toothy, crooked, and terrifying. The smiles did not look real; they appeared to have been carved into the elder’s faces with a knife as they screamed in pain. They were evil smiles._

_Hanzo walked up the stairs and to his room, around the elder and their smiles. He hoped that perhaps he was dreaming, that this was all a nightmare that seemed frighteningly real. Genji was dead. Hanzo had killed him._

_He could not believe it. It could not have happened. This was a nightmare. Hanzo would wake up in his bed any second now._

_But it did not happen. With every passing moment, the situation felt more real. Genji was dead. Hanzo had killed him. Hanzo was alone._

_He screamed, tears flowing down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. He realized he was still gripping his sword tightly. Hanzo reached up with his free hand and grabbed his hair; he brought the sword up to his head and sliced the raven locks from his scalp clump by clump. The strands of hair floated to the ground, and Hanzo did not stop chopping until not one piece of hair reached below his chin._

_In his mirror, Hanzo looked at the uneven, disastrous cut. Blood rolled down the back of his neck from places where he must have nicked his skull with the blade. He was alone. Genji was dead. Hanzo had killed him._

_Hanzo turned the sword around so the blade was pointing at his stomach. He gripped the blade between two shaky hands, and he attempted to drive the weapon into his body._

_His arms would not move, ignoring Hanzo’s desire to kill himself. Hanzo pushed harder, but his arms glowed blue as his dragons fought back. “We won’t let you,” they yelled. “You cannot end here.”_

_Hanzo pushed harder, with all of his might, and the dragons began to give way. Slowly, the blade sank into his stomach a few inches. Blood pooled through Hanzo’s clothing and dripped down his body. He began feeling dizzy, and the dragons took over. His body glowed a bright blue as the dragons made him remove the sword from his flesh. The weapon clattered to the ground._

_The dragons moved his legs forward towards the hallway. Hanzo hung his head forward, suddenly overwhelmingly tired as the blood gushed. The dragons willed him into the hallway and down a corridor before he finally collapsed and allowed his eyes to drift shut._

* * *

Hanzo woke up feeling groggy and disoriented; he rubbed his eyelids with his palms in a circular motion, trying to expel the sleep from his body. After looking at the ticking clock on the wall, he saw that only thirty minutes had passed, although he felt like he had been asleep for ages. Almost immediately, Angela entered the room writing frantic notes.

“The test was successful,” she said, not looking up from her tablet. She took a seat in front of Hanzo. “The memory extraction was quicker and much more efficient. I directly stored the memory on a flash drive which I will secure in a safe place.”

“I am glad to hear,” Hanzo said.

“More importantly, I want to discuss with you what I saw.”

Hanzo nodded. “And what was it you saw?”

“Your fight with Genji. That day,” Angela whispered.

Hanzo’s body drooped and he shifted his gaze away. He did not know what to say about the situation that had not already been said; Genji “died,” and Hanzo had killed him. It was an evil action that he could never forget, never take away. The trauma he had put Genji through, the cyborg body he had trapped his little brother in: it was inexcusable, and everybody knew it.

Seemingly noticing Hanzo’s dropping mood and posture, Angela began talking once more. “I believe I know what you will say: that it was monstrous and cannot be erased. That may be true, but there is an explanation for the event. You were not in your right mind; you were breaking under the pressure and abuse. It was a very complex situation.”

“The complexity does not excuse my violence,” Hanzo grunted.

“I did not say that it did. It _is_ an explanation, however. It appears like you were in the midst of a psychotic episode. Within the memory, visuals appeared blurred and choppy, almost dreamlike. Perhaps it was the exhaustion mixed with severe pressure and trauma. Do you remember what happened after…this..?” Angela asked, resting a hand over Hanzo’s stomach where his scar was.

Hanzo exhaled deeply. “I believe my dragons kept me alive. The elders found me and stitched the wound. They styled my hair, and they acted as if nothing had happened, like Genji had never existed in the first place and was not worth acknowledging let alone mourning. I ran away from the clan not long after.”

Angela nodded and took a few notes. “What made you finally decide to kill Genji?”

“I became furious that he was not listening,” Hanzo said. “And I was even angrier that the elders would not stop pestering and threatening me for not ‘dealing with’ him.”

“What did those threats look like?”

Hanzo thought for a moment. “They would say that if I would not dispose of Genji, then they would themselves. They said that they would remove me as leader, that they would punish my cowardice. Ironically, it was my cowardice, my fear of them, that prompted me to do what I did.”

“They were terrible humans,” Angela said. “And you felt angry that, on top of his behavior, Genji was not there for you?”

“I did.”

“Are you still suicidal?”

Hanzo sighed. “I think about dying often,” he admitted. “However, I do not feel that I would presently act on my urges.”

“That’s a step up…” Angela mumbled. “If the feelings ever become too much, call me immediately, okay? I do not care what time it is, I will be there.”

“I…thank you,” Hanzo said.

Angela frowned. “It was true that Genji was in contact with Overwatch, but know that his intentions were not to harm you. He believed – and rightly, in my mind – that taking down the clan was what was best for the both of you. It was us that found him in the gardens, barely breathing. He was glowing bright green, the shade of his hair, and I took him in to piece him back together again.”

Hanzo still felt a pang of frustration in the back of his mind at knowing that Genji had been trying to bring him down all along. _No,_ he chastised himself. He had to remind himself that Genji's actions were not about _him_ ; they were prompted by the toxicity of the clan. He understood that now. He had been brainwashed to believe that Genji was the problem rather than the abusive actions of the Shimadas. It had taken him years to retrain his mind, to see that there was no honor in any of the clan's actions. Hanzo shook his head, wishing that he could have been born into some other family, a family that was normal and sent their children to school, encouraging them to make friends rather than turning them into weapons, into objects. “Thank you for saving him, mother” Hanzo finally whispered. Angela stared at him for a moment before Hanzo finally realized what he had said. He felt his face grow hot. “Angela! I meant _Angela._ ”

Angela smiled. “Do you think of me as a mother figure?”

“No, I…” Hanzo stood. “I apologize; I misspoke.”

“It’s alright, Hanzo,” Angela said with a chuckle. “I am honored that you trust me.”

“I…” Hanzo’s words drifted away from him. He did not know what to say. It was true that he trusted Angela deeply and was unspeakably thankful that the doctor was in his brother’s life. He refused to admit that Angela was a motherly figure to him, although the attention and love that she showed him were what he had always craved. Yes, he definitely needed a nap before more cursed Freudian-like language spilled from his lips. “I appreciate you and that I could help you perfect your machine. I would like to leave now, however.”

Angela frowned. “I see. Have you been keeping up with your medication?”

“I have,” Hanzo said, already walking towards the door. “I do not notice any changes, but it might be too soon for that.”

“Keep me updated if any symptoms arise or if you believe the prescription should be altered. You are getting better, I can tell. I would like you to talk to Genji.”

Hanzo paused, feet away from the door. Angela continued, “Jesse will be leaving for his mission very soon, so you will not be able to go to him for support and comfort. I think you and Genji should talk about this. Genji has forgiven you, and he wants to reform a bond.”

“I can barely look at him without thinking of the pain I caused him, of how much better he would have been without me in his life,” Hanzo said with his back to the doctor.

“Please just…try…son,” Angela said, giggling a bit at the last word.

Hanzo groaned. “Fine, mother.”

* * *

Genji sat across the table from Hanzo, laughing uncontrollably. Hanzo leaned forward with his forehead in his hands as his little brother cackled. “I…can’t…believe,” he said between breathes, “I can’t believe you called Angie _mom_!”

“I am so embarrassed,” Hanzo groaned.

“Wow,” Genji said, wiping a stray tear from the corner of an eye. “Y’know something funny? McCree did the same thing once.”

“He did?” Hanzo said with a slight half-smile.

“Yeah it was back in the Blackwatch days. He was hopped up on the pain meds after a post-mission injury, and it just slipped out I guess. Gabe, Moira, and I wouldn’t let him forget it.”

Hanzo burst out laughing. “I suppose it is Angela’s kind soul.”

“She’s an angel, huh?” Genji said, eyes sparkling. “How was your impromptu session?”

“I…it was…difficult,” Hanzo admitted. “We discussed _that_ _day_.”

“Ah,” Genji sighed. He shifted his glance to the floor, and Hanzo frowned. He wondered if Genji even wanted to discuss the events. They last and only time they had talked about the fight had escalated into a violent encounter within the Shimada castle on the anniversary of Genji’s “death.” Was this something that was meant to be talked about? This all-encompassing elephant in the room left Hanzo with a considerable headache.

“I am sorry,” he and Genji both said simultaneously. Hanzo let out a shocked gasp. “Why in the world are you sorry?” he asked his little brother.

“When I was young, I lived a life of recklessness. In my selfishness, I inflicted pain and hurt those I cared for.” Genji reached out a hand and rested it on Hanzo’s shoulder. “I hurt you. For that, I am sorry.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Hanzo whispered. “After everything, how could you say that? I am the one who is sorry.”

“We have both messed up, brother. It’s time to move forward.”

Move forward. It was a concept Hanzo had struggled with his entire life. His past had affected him so much; it had shaped him and those around him. How could Hanzo simply move on? How could he forget the pain he had dealt, the lives he had taken?

Genji offered a smile. “Let’s go do something fun today. I want to go into town.”

Hanzo smiled back. He had been thinking of going into town. Remaining cooped up in the base for too long could not be good for him. He needed sunlight and social interactions. He needed his brother. “Will you accompany me for a haircut?” Hanzo asked. “I have been thinking of altering my look lately.”

“I would love to.”

Hanzo nodded. He and his brother stood, and together they left the Watchpoint. Hanzo felt hopeful. If Genji was willing to offer Hanzo another chance, then who was he to throw that chance away. No, he would prove himself to Genji. He would prove that he could be a good brother. He would not give up, no matter what his mind told him. Hanzo felt that his dragons were pleased with Genji’s presence; they wanted to prove themselves too. He shushed the spirits gently and looked at his brother from the corner of his eye. Genji was smiling, and that kept Hanzo smiling in turn. Hanzo would do his best; it was all he could do.


	20. To Be Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter took so long. I've been pretty busy, and I also took some time to write a separate, small Mchanzo holiday fic. If you need some fluff, go ahead and read! And I recently made a twitter for fic updates and general shitposting. You can find me @McEuropeskies if you'd like! I've been enjoying the Overwatch posts there so far.  
> Anyway, I hope you're all doing well and are still enjoying this story. You're all the best! (No warnings in this chapter)

It was raining the day Jesse returned home – a torrential downpour pattered against the Orca’s roof as it flew through storm clouds, rattling with every growl of thunder. Jesse watched the Watchpoint come into view, a tiny speck far below them, as turbulence shook him about his seat. The week-long mission had been slow-going and boring, the four members tediously gathering information from informants and unsuspecting members of Los Muertos. But it had been a success. After days of investigating, the team had located a drunk and lonesome member of the gang who wanted nothing more than somebody to listen to his complaints. Tracer and Jesse had offered the man a shoulder to cry on, and from there, they found it easy to prompt the man to answer their questions.

If the man was to be believed, the team found that Talon was indeed slowly taking control of the Los Muertos gang. As Dorado’s Día de la Revolución parade was well underway, Talon planned on bombing all of the area’s major security stations, giving Los Muertos the opportunity to completely overrun the city and send it into mass chaos. And if Los Muertos controlled Dorado and Talon controlled Los Muertos, then Dorado would soon become yet another city in the clutches of Talon’s rule. Jesse had no idea how much of their own manpower Talon planned on using, but based on Sombra’s words and the increase of Los Muertos activity, he was certain that this was a serious threat that had to be dealt with immediately.

Jesse knew it was a threat; he did. But he was so tired. He had half a mind to tell Winston to just inform the security stations and let them deal with everything themselves. Jesse wanted to sleep and wake up to a better world, a world where he did not have to run all around the globe to make sure that more innocent people were not dying. And they died anyway. With every passing day, Jesse felt even smaller and more powerless to stop the chaos. He had returned to Overwatch because he thought it would be nice to work alongside his old family once more, but Jesse found the novelty of that already running out, replaced with an all-consuming dread that the world was hopeless. The world was cruel, a lost cause; he did not want to fight anymore. But at the same time, Jesse felt that people were counting on him. If he gave up fighting, what would become of them? Jesse could not think about it for too long without feeling completely hopeless, like he was bound to die on the battlefield, bleeding out in an alleyway while those he fought for only knew his name from wanted posters and crime reports.

Lena turned on the fasten seatbelt sign as they began their descent. More thunder boomed in the distance, and Jesse sighed. He had been looking forward to relaxing in the sunlight with Hanzo as they shared a drink. The stormy day only increased Jesse’s gloom and weariness. Before long, they were back on the ground, and Lena drove the ship into the hangar.

Jesse felt Fareeha’s eyes on him, and he turned to face her. Caught, she offered a small smile.

“Are you holding up alright?” she asked him. Her look seemed worried, so Jesse figured he must not be hiding his stress as well as he had thought.

“I’m okay,” he said, smiling back.

From his other side, Jesse felt a hand on his arm. “You didn’t seem yourself out there,” Lucio added. “More distant.”

“Guess I just got a lot on my mind,” Jesse said. “Don’t worry yourselves.”

“Well, talk to us if you need to,” Lucio said, and Fareeha nodded along.

Jesse made a mental note to not appear so miserable in the future. He did not want to attract this kind of attention. He was supposed to be the comic relief, the easy-going soul who cheered others up – not the other way around. People were counting on him. Everyone was counting on him.

Lena parked the ship and opened the doors. Jesse listened to the rain droplets outside of the hangar for a moment before standing up. He stretched and heard his knees pop and back crack. He was getting old, wasn’t he? Perhaps it wouldn’t be long before he ended up like Jack, lonely and battle-torn, knowing nothing else but war.

Jesse stepped down the stairs of the Orca to find Hanzo in the hangar waiting for them – for _him._ The sight stopped Jesse in his tracks and brought a smile to his face. His chest felt warm, comfortable, and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to be in Hanzo’s arms. He wanted to feel that warmth for forever.

Jesse picked up his pace, jogging over to Hanzo and pulling the other man in for a hug. He did not know if he was overstepping any boundaries, if Hanzo simply went along with the embrace because he saw the tired look in Jesse’s eyes. But Hanzo hugged back, and Jesse melted. He rubbed his cheek against Hanzo’s head and was met with something prickly.

Jesse pulled back and finally noticed Hanzo’s new haircut – how could he have missed something so stunning? Hanzo had gotten a perfect undercut, sides shaved to erase his greys and make him look years younger. The rest of his hair was still long, done up in a graceful bun. Jesse had loved Hanzo’s old hair, but he found himself loving this style too. It seemed that Hanzo could rock any look. If there was one constant, it was the small strand of hair that always seemed to fall in Hanzo’s eyes, never being long enough to tie back or tuck away. It was so…endearing.

After a moment, Hanzo became awkward under Jesse’s gaze. Had Jesse been staring? He found himself too tired to care, but he had to stop himself from reaching out and trying to brush that strand of hair behind Hanzo’s ear.

“Do you like it?” Hanzo finally asked.

“It’s perfect,” Jesse said without missing a beat.

Hanzo smirked. “So it does not scream ‘mid-life crisis’ too much?”

“Absolutely not.”

Both men chuckled, and Hanzo slowly took hold of Jesse’s hand. Jesse wondered where this forwardness in Hanzo was coming from. Had something happened while he was gone? Perhaps Jesse’s exhaustion just made him seem more approachable. Right, his exhaustion. He needed sleep. Nonetheless, he returned the affection with a light squeeze to Hanzo’s hand. Maybe the other man would take a nap with him if he asked.

“I have cooked you a meal,” Hanzo said. “You must be hungry.”

Food sounded good, too. Jesse realized that he had not eaten too well the whole mission, so getting something nutritious in his stomach might help him feel better. Sleep could wait for a little longer. After all, Hanzo had went through all the trouble to cook for him. Hanzo cooked for _him_. The thought made Jesse’s heart flutter.

“You cooked for lil ol’ me? How sweet of ya,” Jesse said.

Hanzo smiled and began leading Jesse down the hallway. He heard Lena calling after him, “Wait, Jess, the mission report!”

Jesse groaned and looked back at Lena, Fareeha, and Lucio. He felt Hanzo rub his thumb over the back of his hand, and his gaze softened once more. “I’m sure the three of you could deliver the message to Winston just fine,” Jesse replied. “You’ll do just fine without me.”

* * *

Before him sat a pot of chili with black beans, various veggies, Italian sausage, and a dollop of sour cream as well as a fresh-baked apple pie. Jesse breathed in the mixture of scents, sweet and savory, and he let out a contented sigh. This was wonderful; _Hanzo_ was wonderful. Jesse could not have asked for anything better.

Hanzo sat across from him, seemingly awaiting Jesse’s opinion of the dish. Jesse scooped a large helping of the chili into his bowl and blew on it before taking a bite. It was delicious – perhaps not as spicy as he normally made it and could use some more jalapenos – but the flavor combination of the sausage and beef mixed with the perfect amount of tomatoes had his mouth watering for more. “Hanzo, this is so good!” he said between bites. “Thank ya kindly.”

Hanzo seemed pleased by the reaction; his face lit up. “I am glad you like it. I assumed you needed some good food in your system.”

“You’re a peach. I can’t finish it all myself, though. You should have some.”

Hanzo nodded after a moment and scooped some of the chili into a bowl of his own. The two ate in comfortable silence, scarfing down the meal, only pausing to take sips of water. When he was nearly full on chili, Jesse turned to the now-cool pie. He cut himself a small slice, Hanzo following suit, and took a bite. He nearly moaned when the crispy crust and sweet, gooey filling ran over his tastebuds. “Jesus, Han, you’re an expert baker too? What can’t you do?”

Hanzo seemed to glow under the praise. The other man ate his own slice and appeared pleased with himself. Jesse was glad to see it. This had all been a pleasant surprise – exactly what Jesse had needed. It was like Hanzo had read his mind, sensed Jesse’s dropping mood from miles away and came to the rescue. Jesse wanted to take Hanzo’s face in his hands and kiss him.

He was so pleased and so tired that he had nearly forgotten about the predicament he was in. He had to tell Hanzo about the memories, that he _watched_ the man’s deepest, darkest secrets. Jesse took pride in being an honest man; he could not let his streak end with Hanzo, someone who he cared about deeply. He had no clue what would happen when he told Hanzo, but perhaps if he explained the full situation to him Jesse would not lose him completely. Jesse wanted more moments like this one: domestic, peaceful, loving.

But then Hanzo was standing and coming closer, closer until he sat straddling Jesse’s lap, and Jesse could not keep up with these sudden changes. His mouth fell open; he didn’t know what to do or what to say, and everything was becoming unbearably hot. Hanzo moved his hands to Jesse’s shoulders and began massaging them, kneading the knotted muscles between skilled fingers. “I have noticed your stress, cowboy,” Hanzo purred in his ear. “Perhaps I can run us a nice, hot bath,” Hanzo rolled his hips, “relieve your tension…”

It was too much. It was all too much. He needed Hanzo to know; none of it would feel right otherwise. “Han, wait –” he started, and Hanzo was up and away from him in the blink of an eye, mouth agape.

“I apologize,” Hanzo stammered. He was already backing towards the door. “That was out of line. I…I misread…I am sorry.”

Jesse stood and took hold of the other man’s hand. “Now hang on a sec. That ain’t…no, Han, I want this, I do, but…”

Hanzo was now staring at Jesse, face hardened. He almost flinched under the other man’s gaze. “But what?” Hanzo asked.

Jesse slowly approached Hanzo, like the man would run away if he made one wrong step. He came near enough to wrap Hanzo in his arms and cradle his head close. Jesse took a breath and planted a gentle kiss on the top of his head. “I gotta tell you somethin’.”

“What is the problem?” Hanzo asked, voice muffled by Jesse’s shirt.

“Those memories a’yours. I…I watched them – _had_ to watch them.”

And then Hanzo was pulling away from him with a look of disgust and disbelief. “You what?” he growled.

Jesse raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t have too much of a choice ‘n I thought I’d be helpin’ ‘cause Sombra said—“

“I do not want to hear this! You’ve invaded my privacy!”

Jesse looked down. This was turning out even worse than he thought; everything around him seemed to be moving so quickly. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, but this was important. Hanzo was important. He needed Hanzo to know that. “What I saw doesn’t change my feelings for you,” he said. “I’m sor—“

“I don’t need protection or your pity,” Hanzo said, his face red.

“I know, Han it’s not that. It’s...I think I l-…I like you a lot. It’s not that I pity you I just...care for you so much. What I did was real shitty and I can’t say sorry enough. There’s no excusin’. I just thought...maybe I could help. I didn’t want to see you hurting, and Sombra was threatenin’ stuff and…I’m so sorry.”

Without another word, Hanzo turned and left. Jesse did nothing but watch, and, once more, he was alone. He stared at the spot where Hanzo stood seconds before, wishing they were still hugging, still sitting in comfortable silence, _anything_ but this. Jesse shook his head; he could not take it. With what felt like a thousand-pound weight on his shoulders, Jesse walked to his bedroom and slumped down on the mattress. He fell asleep with a pillow clutched to his chest, holding back tears as one resounding thought circled his mind. _It can’t end like this._

* * *

The next morning, Hanzo awoke with yet another terrible headache. He had grown used to them with their never-ending throbbing, demanding his attention and ruining relaxation. At least he knew the cause of this particular headache.

Genji had told Hanzo that he had no doubt everything would go perfectly. With a new look and some of Jesse’s favorite foods, Jesse would definitely cave and admit his feelings, Genji had said. Unfortunately, an unforeseen factor had gotten in the way of that, as had normally been the case for Hanzo.

Now he felt stupid. He had probably looked so desperate the way he came on to Jesse. And the way Jesse had turned him down, like it was _because_ of Hanzo’s past that Jesse refused to touch him. It seemed that no matter what Hanzo did, he could not escape his memories. He could try to change his appearance, to cook a nice meal, to have a boyfriend, but domesticity was simply not a possibility for him.

He sat up with a huff and trudged over to his mirror, spending a minute looking at himself. Yes, this hairstyle suited him better, he decided. The absence of his greys made him look less like his father. Hanzo let his hair down and studied how it shaped his face. Although he felt the look did not help much, he definitely looked a few years younger.

A knock at the door shook Hanzo from his thoughts. He sighed, not really feeling like talking with anybody right now – especially not Jesse. He could not bring himself to say that he was angry with the man – disappointed, definitely. But angry? He did not know. Hanzo felt vulnerable, like his privacy had been violated in the worst way possible – he hated it. He felt judged and too weak to refute any of those judgements.

Hanzo slowly approached the door, hoping whoever was behind it had gotten tired of waiting and left. When he opened it, he found that, indeed, nobody was there. Hanzo let out a sigh of relief and was about to close the door when he noticed an object on the ground in front of him.

Hanzo ducked down and found a bag of genmaicha tea, his favorite, placed in front of his door with a small bow on top. He looked around the hallway, but nobody was in sight. Picking up the gift, Hanzo reentered his room.

It had to be from Jesse. Or perhaps Angela? Maybe Genji? The more Hanzo thought, the less certain he was. He settled that it was _likely_ to be from Jesse; perhaps it was his way of apologizing again. Hanzo frowned.

He needed time to think about he and Jesse’s relationship. Was Jesse to be trusted? Could Hanzo truly let someone in, let someone _know him_? It had never worked for him before. Was this time truly different, or was Hanzo letting emotion cloud his logic? He needed more time.

* * *

The next morning was the same. Hanzo woke, went about his morning routine, and heard another knock on the door. This time, there was a bouquet of hydrangeas and desert bluebells wrapped nicely in matching blue paper. Hanzo lifted the sweet-smelling gift and returned to his room to grab a vase.

The following mornings were the same, although the gifts differed. Incense. More tea. Freshly baked cookies. Hanzo knew that Jesse would immediately stop if he asked, but, even with his disappointment in Jesse, Hanzo still found himself enjoying the gifts. They were sweet and became a part of his routine, although around the Watchpoint, Jesse was nowhere in sight. It was almost like he was avoiding Hanzo, like he was terrified to talk to him in person.

Hanzo supposed that was his own fault – he had yelled at Jesse after all. Although, Hanzo still became frustrated when he thought about Jesse’s prying for too long. He did not know why it affected him so – Angela knew about his past, so why shouldn’t Jesse?

Hanzo shook his head. That was not sound logic. Angela was a trained professional, and Jesse was…well, Jesse. Hanzo tried to channel Angela and decide what she would have to say about the situation. He stood in front of his mirror once more and closed his eyes, allowing the thoughts to sink in.

His whole life, Hanzo had been punished for showing weakness. He had been beaten and betrayed be those who should have protected him. Even as a child, he had not been allowed to laugh or play or be _weak_. He learned that anything except the exhibition of strength and power was bad. Hanzo opened his eyes.

His current situation made him feel weak, and that weakness frightened him. The vulnerability made him lash out. Hanzo needed to take a breath and analyze the situation from Jesse’s point of view.

Hanzo soon found himself in the rec room with Genji, Hana, and Lucio, thinking over Jesse’s predicament. The game that his three companions were playing was a loud, sufficient white noise that kept his concentration grounded.

Jesse had tried to tell Hanzo that Sombra threatened him. Jesse did not seem like the type to do something like this with malicious intent, so perhaps he truly did feel like he was helping Hanzo. But if he were helping, then why was he so hesitant to tell Hanzo in the first place? Maybe Jesse was waiting for the right moment to break the news to Hanzo easy, but Hanzo’s actions had forced him to blurt out the news suddenly. Perhaps Hanzo should…simply ask Jesse to elaborate on his feelings instead of trying to play Sherlock Holmes. He sighed.

“Brother, you’re being a grump,” Genji said as he gripped his controller in his hands and seemed to just be mashing buttons.

“I am not ‘being a grump.’”

“Totally grumping,” Hana added.

“Prime grumpiness right here,” Lucio said.

Hanzo sighed again. “You three do not quit, do you?”

Genji paused the game the three of them were playing and held his controller out to Hanzo. “Here.”

Hanzo took it and held it away from his body like the thing was diseased. “And what would you have me do with this?”

“Play a game. Have fun.”

“Ooo yeah!” Hana yelled. “Old man gaming session.”

Hanzo groaned. “I am not that old.”

Hana let her hands fall to her hips and gestured to Hanzo’s controller. “Prove it, gramps.”

After a quick rundown from Lucio and Hana on the controls of the free-for-all fighting game, Hanzo forgot nearly everything. He chose the character who had the highest agility statistics and quickly found that button-mashing was a surprisingly efficient strategy. Despite knowing absolutely nothing but the jump button, Hanzo found himself able to beat both Lucio and Hana on the fourth round, and he had come rather close on the third. He laughed aloud when his character popped up on the victory screen.

“I cannot be beat,” Hanzo chuckled.

“Except for the last three times,” Hana said, seeming annoyed that her sophisticated strategy was bested by pure luck. Hanzo decided not to rub his victory in…too much. He let the victory screen stay up for a few more moments before pressing the button to move to the next screen.

“May I play again?” Genji asked, reaching for his brother’s controller.

Hanzo handed it back with a smile. “And just as I was getting good.”

“I felt left out,” Genji said, matching Hanzo’s smile. “We’ll have to get another controller for you.”

“Possibly.”

The three resumed the game and began another round. It seemed that Genji’s strategy was not too much different than Hanzo’s. He chuckled to himself and looked at his companions’ smiling face. Suddenly, he found himself wishing that Jesse was among them.

Jesse made him feel complete, Hanzo realized. Yes, he was happy now, without Jesse, but he wanted to share that happiness with the other man. He wanted to see Jesse smile and laugh and open up around him, and Hanzo wanted to be the cause of all of it. Jesse made him feel like he could be good, that he _was_ good. Hanzo did not want to lose that – it was much too precious.

A love like Jesse’s was something he had never allowed himself. He wanted the happiness that came along with that love, deserved it even. Hanzo had made countless mistakes throughout his life. How could he not forgive Jesse for one measly screw-up, one that he made out of concern and confusion?

Hanzo stood, a sense of resolve in his step. Genji turned to him and winked, almost like he had read the elder Shimada’s mind. Hanzo nodded and walked back to his room to put together a course of action. He was just about to text Jesse when he heard it: a loud song, only muffled slightly by the glass of Hanzo’s window.

 _He wouldn’t_ , Hanzo thought to himself as he ran to his window. He slid it open and saw Jesse, feet below him standing in the mud as a light rain fell and holding a cell phone speaker above his head which played Air Supply’s “I’m All Out of Love” at full volume. _He would_.

“Hey babydoll!” Jesse yelled up to him. Hanzo found himself smiling like an idiot. “I know I look like an absolute fool out here, but I weren’t exactly plannin’ on all this rain!”

Hanzo rested his head on his palms as he gazed down at Jesse. “And what is it you want, Romeo?” Hanzo yelled back down to him.

“C’mere?”

Before Jesse could say another word, Hanzo was out the window and climbing down the side of the building. Jesse let the speaker fall to the ground as Hanzo ran into his arms, and Jesse slipped in the mud and tumbled to the ground.

With flecks of mud on his cheeks and through his beard, Jesse looked up at Hanzo like the man was the sun. “Does this mean you accept my apology?” he asked.

Hanzo pulled Jesse in for a kiss. The rain and mud made it more difficult than Hanzo had hoped, but he did not care. When Jesse’s lips met his, Hanzo felt that he could have been anywhere in world and nothing would have ruined the moment. He grabbed the sides of Jesse’s face as he deepened the kiss, and Hanzo felt Jesse wrap his arms around his hips.

They stayed like that, locked in their kiss, until the rain became thicker and a clap of thunder was heard in the distance. Even then Hanzo hesitated to pull away, but when he did, Jesse cupped his cheeks and brushed the wet strands of Hanzo’s hair aside. Hanzo met the man’s eyes, and Jesse ran a thumb across his cheek.

“Beautiful,” Jesse breathed.

“As are you.”

He and Jesse simply looked at one another for another moment. The electric between them was unlike anything Hanzo had ever felt. It was as if he was floating or perhaps dreaming. Everything seemed otherworldly.

Hanzo had half a mind to pull Jesse back in for another kiss, but the rain was becoming rather hard to ignore. Jesse seemed to share the thought because he moved to stand, pulling Hanzo up with him. “Wanna go watch a movie?” Jesse asked with a goofy, lopsided smile.

“After a shower, yes, nothing would make me happier,” Hanzo replied.

Hand-in-hand the two ran back to the doors of the Watchpoint’s main building, stomping over puddles and clumps of mud. They smiled and laughed all the way, and never once did their hands slip from the hold.


	21. Lotus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy! I've had a little break these last couple days, so here's a new chapter! Love you and will respond to comments very soon :)
> 
> **Warnings in this chapter: a lot of explicit sexual content

During the few days of their relationship, Hanzo had cared for Jesse as the man fought through a nasty cold. It turned out that Jesse standing out in the cold rain had not been especially good for his health, and he soon developed a cough and runny nose. Following Hanzo’s initial jabs and jokes about Jesse’s odd courting behavior, he found that it was particularly enjoyable to make Jesse hot soups and teas. He took pleasure in how his care seemed to make Jesse want to show Hanzo physical affection and in Jesse’s subsequent pout when Hanzo scooted away from his boyfriend’s outstretched hands, stating with a smirk, “I will not kiss you until you get better. I do not want to get sick, Jesse.”

 _His boyfriend_. Jesse was Hanzo’s boyfriend. It was hard for Hanzo to wrap his head around it, the fact that Jesse wanted him for _him_. He did not want to hurt or use Hanzo, just to show his tender affection. Sometimes Hanzo did not understand what was in it for Jesse. The man did not seem rushed to take Hanzo to the bedroom or ask him to cover expenses. Jesse was just interested in him. Hanzo knew now that that was normal, that healthy relationships were built upon dedication and care for people and not their assets, but he could not wrap his head around how he had managed to become a part of such a healthy relationship. How had he found someone as beautiful and as good-hearted as Jesse McCree?

The oddest part was, Jesse seemed to wonder the same thing about Hanzo. The man treated Hanzo like he was gold that Jesse did not deserve. Immediately after Angela had deemed him noncontagious, Jesse peppered Hanzo’s face with tiny kisses and cuddled with him, gently running his finger over Hanzo’s shaved sides and playing with his hair. Hanzo was not used to someone showing him this degree of affection without desiring it to escalate to something much more heated. They kissed to kiss and cuddled to cuddle. It was not about using one another as a means to an end; it was simply about warmth and enjoyment.

Now, Hanzo stood brewing a fresh pot of tea in the breakroom while Angela and Jesse sat at the table. Hanzo found that Jesse did not shy away from talking about their new relationship, telling Angela that his “sweetiepie” was a great kisser and had the softest hair he’d ever felt. It took all of Hanzo’s effort not to groan in embarrassment; at least Angela found the situation amusing enough.

Hanzo poured three small mugs of tea and carried them over to the room’s other occupants. Jesse watched the lower half of him intently, and Hanzo was just about to say “My eyes are up here, cowboy,” when Jesse shot him a worried glance.

“You’re limping,” he told Hanzo.

Hanzo walked around to the empty seat next to Jesse and plopped down. “I am fine. Do not worry.”

Angela huffed. “Have you been removing your prosthetics regularly?”

After a moment, Hanzo saw no other option but to shake his head. “No.”

“I know it’s hard,” Angela said softly. “But you can’t let them scab and get infected. You can’t keep waiting until the pain is unbearable to give your legs a rest.”

“I know.”

“Does it frighten you?” Angela asked.

“It…” Hanzo sighed and shook his head again. “I am not frightened…I am just…I do not like the vulnerability involved with taking away my ability to walk. If someone were to attack, I would be useless.”

“Would it help if…somebody were with ya?” Jesse asked.

Hanzo looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “I mean,” Jesse continued, “if someone you trusted were there with you ready to offer support and help if you needed it, would it make the experience less…anxiety-inducin’?”

Hanzo shifted his gaze to his legs. _Beautiful,_ Jesse had called him. But this part of Hanzo was anything but. He was sure that it would not happen, but, in the back of his mind, Hanzo thought that if Jesse saw him without his legs, weak and needy, he would leave for sure. “I would not want you to have to see… _that_ ,” Hanzo finally said, spitting out the last word with venom.

“Hanzo…” Angela began but was interrupted by the clicking sound of Jesse detaching his prosthetic arm. Hanzo stared as the other man held out his robotic limb with a smile. Hanzo found that he had briefly forgotten about his boyfriend’s own prosthetic, and he abashedly met Jesse’s eyes, hoping that he was not offended by Hanzo’s words.

“I know at least a lil about how you’re feelin’,” Jesse said. “You might be feelin’ othered and ashamed, but there ain’t no reason for that around us – around _me._ I care about you, honeybee. Let me give you a _hand_.” Jesse emphasized his joke by shaking around his robotic arm.

Hanzo could not help but smile. He still was not entirely sure; there was very little that he despised more than his leg maintenance, but he figured he should at least try. If he got too anxious, Hanzo knew that Jesse would immediately step back and give him the time and space he needed. He trusted Jesse.

“Okay,” Hanzo mumbled. “I will try.”

Jesse’s beaming smile made Hanzo feel warm inside. He reattached his arm with a snap and squeezed Hanzo’s hand. “And I’m positive that you could best anyone in a fight even without ‘em. Wanna go to your room, babydoll?”

Hanzo nodded and stood, feeling the burn of putting weight on the ends of his legs. It almost made him wince. Hand-in-hand, he and Jesse walked back to Hanzo’s living quarters. Hanzo sat on the edge of his bed and removed his sweatpants, leaving only his boxer shorts.

“Got any antibiotic lotion stuff?” Jesse asked. Hanzo nodded and retrieved the tube of ointment from one of his bedside drawers. Jesse took the medicine and went to Hanzo’s bathroom, running some hot water over the tube to warm up its contents as Hanzo smiled and propped himself up on some pillows.

When Jesse returned and sat on the edge of the bed, Hanzo shifted his gaze to stare at his legs once more. He hated this. He hated feeling so helpless, like he was a chore. But no, the way Jesse was smiling at him was genuine; the man _wanted_ to do this. Hanzo sighed and leaned back against the fluffy pillows.

“Tell me if you’re uncomfy, m’kay?” Jesse said. “We’ll do one at a time.”

Jesse slowly reached down and unclasped Hanzo’s right leg. Crusted blood flaked and stuck to the end of the prosthetic, and Hanzo heard the other man inhale sharply. Jesse got up and retrieved a wet rag from the bathroom; when he sat back down, Jesse gently dabbed the washcloth against Hanzo’s raw flesh, calmly wiping away the dried blood. When he finished, Jesse held the stump of flesh below Hanzo’s knee and ducked down to plant a kiss on what was left of his shin. A week or two ago, such a gesture would certainly have made Hanzo cry. The gentle touch still made his heart flutter, but he was in a better place now. Such affection no longer stunned him into a depressed bout of tears.

Jesse uncapped the antibiotic cream and squirted a bit into his palm. As soon as Jesse began massaging the medicine on Hanzo’s legs, any discomfort melted away, and Hanzo sighed happily. Jesse thoroughly rubbed the pads of his thumbs and palms of his hands into Hanzo’s skin until Hanzo closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax fully.

Jesse planted another kiss on Hanzo’s knee. “Want me to get the other leg, baby?”

Before he could think, Hanzo found himself nodding. It was odd to him how eager he was to have Jesse give his other leg the same treatment. Hanzo wondered if it was stupid of him; if an attacker burst into their room, Hanzo would be useless. _No,_ Hanzo told himself. _The door is locked. Athena is protecting us. Everything is fine._

Jesse unlatched the left prosthetic and set it gently on the ground beside the bed. He kissed the left leg the same, and Hanzo smiled bright. As Jesse resumed the massage, Hanzo felt his body heat up. It felt good. _Really_ good. He watched Jesse work earnestly, and the cowboy’s dedication to his wellbeing had Hanzo’s mind at ease while a particular region of his body became much more attentive.

Hanzo averted his gaze as Jesse’s eyes landed on his erection. He heard his boyfriend chuckle lightly, and after finishing the massage, Jesse leaned closer to Hanzo’s ear. “Want me to take care’a that for you?” he asked quietly.

“You do not have to,” Hanzo said.

Jesse smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Ain’t what I asked. Wanna make you feel good, but I need a yes or no.”

Hanzo looked up at Jesse, and the cowboy winked at him. “You’re the boss,” Jesse added. “Say the word, and I’ll do whatever ya want, baby.”

Hanzo’s smile returned. He had a feeling that he may be thinking with his cock, but it _would_ be nice. And Hanzo found himself wantingJesse. He had never really lusted after another as others perhaps did. First and foremost, Hanzo had craved trust from relationships, but he found that it was rare that he actually could trust another. But he trusted Jesse, so he allowed himself to _want_ Jesse. “Yes…” Hanzo finally said. “Yes, you…you can.”

Nodding, Jesse slowly pulled down Hanzo’s boxers and let them fall to the side. His cock sprang up as it was released from the clothing, and when Jesse lightly ran his fingertips over the base, Hanzo inhaled sharply. With both hands moving to grip the meat of Hanzo’s ass, Jesse ducked down and took the cock head in his mouth.

Hanzo bit the side of his hand to keep from making any noise. When Jesse hollowed his cheeks and rubbed his flattened tongue across his shaft, Hanzo knew he would not last long. He moaned into his hand as Jesse bobbed his head, and Hanzo rested his free hand on the back of his boyfriend’s head. He felt so…relaxed. A laziness washed over him that made Hanzo feel like he was floating. As much as he enjoyed watching Jesse work, Hanzo allowed his eyes to drift closed.

After a short period, Hanzo felt a pleasurable constriction forming in his groin, and he arched his back, chasing the feeling. Jesse chuckled, sending pleasant vibrations up Hanzo’s shaft, and he pushed Hanzo’s hips back down. As his orgasm approached, Hanzo’s breathing became rapid and he gripped Jesse’s hair. He thrusted his hips, pushing against Jesse’s hold on them. “Jess…” he panted. “I’m…”

Jesse sunk down deeper, taking Hanzo’s entire length in his mouth, and with one final, loud moan against his hand, Hanzo was releasing down his boyfriend’s throat.

He felt Jesse swallow around his length and pull away. It took Hanzo a few moments to come down from his post-orgasm high, but when he did, he found himself unbelievably comfortable against the pillows. When Jesse kissed his lower abdomen, Hanzo sighed happily. His mind was hazy in the best of ways, and a pleasant tiredness overtook him.

When Jesse came closer, Hanzo lazily opened his eyes and gazed at the bulge in the man’s pants. He reached out and pulled Jesse closer by his belt loops. “Allow me to return the favor,” Hanzo mumbled with a smile.

Jesse smiled back and pushed some hair behind Hanzo’s ear. “As much as I appreciate the offer, this was about you. Don’t you go worryin’ your pretty little head about me.”

Hanzo hummed. “Are you positive? I am more than willing.”

“Yeah, ‘m positive.”

Hanzo nodded and outstretched his arms where he laid, inviting Jesse to come in for an embrace. Jesse came closer, and Hanzo wrapped his arms around him, pulling the man in for a lazy kiss. “Yer a little cuddle bug, ain’t ya?”

Hanzo hummed once more. “Nap with me,” he said.

“Sure, baby,” Jesse said, and suddenly he was removing his robotic arm and setting it on Hanzo’s nightstand. “Let’s make it a metal-free nap.”

Hanzo had briefly forgotten about his legs. He could not believe that it had slipped his mind. Jesse served as the perfect distraction from Hanzo’s anxiety, providing him with loving comfort and happiness. Everything had gone much, _much_ better than expected. As Jesse laid down next to him, Hanzo wrapped his arms around the man and rested against his chest. 

“So sweet,” Jesse whispered and began stroking Hanzo’s hair.

“It is you who is the sweet one,” Hanzo mumbled. His head moved up and down with Jesse’s breath and, before long, he fell asleep listening to the steady beat of the man’s heart.

* * *

They continued like this as the days passed. Besides the frequent make-out sessions, not much changed in their routines. Hanzo and Jesse still did most things together, and Hanzo found that he did not get tired of Jesse’s presence. Sure, Jesse gave him space, but it seemed that whenever Hanzo craved the other man’s touch – which was often – Jesse was there to provide gentle kisses and embraces.

Hanzo was happy. So _incredibly_ happy. When Jesse smiled, Hanzo felt content; when Jesse touched him, Hanzo melted. It all felt like a dream, the way Jesse looked at him with nothing but love and kindness in his eyes. Of course, Hanzo felt that he did not deserve such a fate, but for the first time in a long time, he wanted to fight back against those self-deprecating feelings with full force. He wanted to do what it took to keep Jesse by his side.

He and Jesse sat together in the rec room, Jesse laying against his shoulder, as they watched Angela, Genji, Lucio, and Hana play their free-for-all fighting game. Hanzo smiled when Genji moved closer to Angela and began showing her the controls. He could tell that Angela was doing this for Genji’s sake, for she turned out to be very bad at the game. If Angela became frustrated at her losing streak, she did not let it show.

After five losing games, Angela finally came in second place, and Genji congratulated her with a kiss on the cheek. Hanzo felt Jesse chuckle against him. The whole scene made Hanzo feel pure happiness seep through his body. It was so perfectly domestic, so beautiful. He rested his own head against Jesse’s when he heard it: a startled gasp.

Hanzo shot up and looked around, noticing that all eyes were on him. “What? What is the matter?” he asked in a rush.

And then he saw them. Two small, blue, glowing dragons curled up in Jesse’s lap like stretched cats. One was kneading against Jesse’s thigh while the other slept peacefully. “What…” Hanzo began but was cut off by an overjoyed laugh.

“Hello, Hanzo,” the voice of the awake dragon echoed in his mind.

“I…” Hanzo gaped at his spirit dragons and reached out a hand. He scratched underneath the closest dragon’s chin, and it nuzzled against his palm. “I have never…seen them like this…I…”

Hanzo looked over to Genji at a loss. Genji was smiling ear-to-ear and clutching his hands to his chest. “Brother, you’re—“

“—at peace,” a voice behind him finished.

Hanzo whirled around on the couch to face his mother. The woman was looking down at him, studying him. “Just as they appear during battle and times of violence,” Akari continued, “they show themselves when you are at wholly at peace. This form is clearly more suitable.”

Hanzo watched as Akari looked between him and Jesse. Slowly, his dragons dissolved back into his tattoo, and Akari shifted her gaze downward. His mother nodded, turned, and walked from the room.

After a moment, Hanzo sighed. He did not know if he would ever stop feeling terrible around his mother. At the very least, she had not put him down. She simply seemed to be observing, but Hanzo had a feeling that she was judging all the same. He hated how she could ruin a good moment in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, Jesse was reaching over and squeezing his hand. Hanzo looked up to find him smiling. “That was real nice while it lasted,” Jesse said.

“I’m proud of you, Hanzo,” voiced Genji. “I hope your dragons continue to return.”

“Yeah, they were adorable!” said Hana.

Hanzo shifted his gaze to Angela and found that she was also smiling. She nodded at him, and he nodded back, a moment of understanding. Hanzo was getting better.

* * *

The next time his dragons appeared, he and Jesse were simply resting in Hanzo’s room, leaning against one another while watching movies on Jesse’s laptop. Again, they appeared suddenly, solidifying on Jesse’s lap. They were both awake this time, staring at Hanzo with what vaguely looked like smiles. “Hello again,” their voices said in unison.

“Why hello there,” Hanzo whispered. He was nearly stunned to silence at the creatures’ beauty. They shimmered and glowed despite the lack of light shining on them, and their shade of blue was absolutely magnificent. Hanzo reached out, and they rubbed against his hand.

“I think your lil guys like me,” Jesse whispered with a smirk, as if talking too loud would disturb the peace.

One dragon yawned and began climbing up Jesse’s body until it reached the crook of his neck. The creature coiled itself and laid nuzzled against the cowboy. The other continued rubbing itself against Hanzo’s hand, occasionally giving his fingers affectionate nibbles.

Jesse smiled wide and turned to the dragon next to him to give it light kisses on the nose. “You lil sweeties are amazing,” he breathed. “Just like your dad.”

“Is that so?” Hanzo chuckled.

“’Course,” Jesse said. “They’re kind and affectionate.” He began petting the mane of the dragon close to him before continuing. “Hair’s soft just like yours, got the most gorgeous brown eyes, they’re graceful yet strong like you, and,” Jesse paused to gentle boop the top of Hanzo’s nose, “you both got such cute lil noses.”

Hanzo let his fingers graze over his nose where Jesse had touched. He met Jesse’s soft eyes and felt a hot neediness overtaking his body. Suddenly, the dragons dissolved away, and Jesse’s gaze turned worried. “Did I say something wro— “

Hanzo interrupted the man by pulling him in for a heated kiss. Jesse hummed in surprise but quickly began kissing back, running his hands through Hanzo’s hair. Hanzo’s tongue slipped over Jesse’s, and he groaned before breaking away for a breath.

“You okay?” Jesse panted.

Hanzo moved to straddle his boyfriend who took hold of his hips. “Shirt off,” Hanzo said before resuming the kiss. After taking a moment to unbutton his flannel, Jesse shifted under Hanzo to remove the clothing and toss it to the side. Hanzo broke away again and looked over his boyfriend’s chest, running a hand over his brown chest hair. Jesse reached over and pulled on the end of Hanzo’s t-shirt with a raised brow. “Wanna take yours off, baby?” he asked.

Hanzo pulled his own shirt over his head and flung it away. The air in the room was comfortably warm while Hanzo’s body continued increasing in temperature. He found that he wanted to get the rest of his clothes off, and quickly. Jesse hummed approvingly and cupped Hanzo’s pecs in his hands.

Despite his arousal, Hanzo could not help but laugh at the way Jesse’s hands immediately sought him out. “So obscene,” he said, smirking.

Jesse sat up and planted a wet kiss on Hanzo’s branded shoulder, his eyes appearing slightly sad. “Can’t help it,” he said. “You’re too perfect.”

Hanzo moved his hands through Jesse’s hair and rubbed his clothed erection against Jesse’s own. Jesse groaned and kissed Hanzo’s forehead. “How ‘bout we get them pesky pants offa ya?” he whispered in Hanzo’s ear.

Hanzo nodded and moved off of Jesse to untie the sweatpants. He slid them off easily, leaving only his boxers. Jesse smiled and moved to stand up by the edge of the bed, looking down at Hanzo like he was the most picturesque human he had ever seen.

“Now yours,” Hanzo said.

Jesse seemed eager to oblige but paused for a moment. “Ya sure? I’d be more than happy t’just give you another blowjob.”

“Off,” Hanzo demanded. “Underwear too.”

Jesse chuckled and undid his belt, sliding it through the belt loops and tossing it aside. He unbuttoned his jeans and slide them and his boxers off in one quick motion. Hanzo watched his cock spring up, a drop of precum already beading on the head.

“Eager,” Hanzo said.

“Yup,” Jesse replied, unashamed. He leaned in close to give Hanzo another gentle kiss. “What do you want me to do?”

“My boxers. Take them off.”

Jesse nodded and rubbed his hands up and down Hanzo’s hips tenderly before taking hold of the hem of the boxer shorts and slowly sliding them down. Hanzo felt much better when his cock was released, and he gave it a few quick pumps with his hand.

“Now what?” Jesse whispered.

Hanzo thought about his next words carefully. He trusted Jesse deeply and knew the man would never do anything to hurt him. He knew that they were safe here. With a deep breath, Hanzo looked Jesse in the eyes. “Take off my legs.”

Jesse’s eyes widened. “Ya sure?”

After a moment, Hanzo nodded. “Yes, they are uncomfortable now. I…I want them off.”

Jesse carefully moved his hands to Hanzo’s prosthetics, hovering over them and waiting for another sign of approval. Hanzo nodded, and Jesse took his time to unlatch the legs one at a time, massaging both ends of Hanzo’s legs in turn and gently kissing the scarred flesh.

Hanzo sighed happily. He felt completely on display, but, surprisingly enough, he liked it. He liked it because it was Jesse who was looked at him. Under Jesse’s gaze, he felt good, he felt special.

“How do you wanna…what do you wanna do?” Jesse asked.

“There is lube in my bottom drawer. Retrieve it,” Hanzo said.

Jesse quickly did as he was told and set the bottle of lubricant on the end of the bed. “Condoms?”

Hanzo shifted his gaze. “I…Did not think I would ever need them here.”

“Well in that case,” Jesse shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want you to think I was bein’ presumptuous, but…” The man moved and grabbed a single condom from the pocket of his discarded jeans. “…I…it was just in case.”

Hanzo threw his head back and laughed. The awkwardness of the situation was incredibly humorous and endearing. “Come here. Kneel on the bed,” Hanzo said, still chuckling.

Jesse did just that, but Hanzo shook his head. “Back to the door. I…I want to be able to see the door.”

Rather than questioning him and assuring Hanzo that they were safe, that there would definitely be no intruders, Jesse simply nodded and repositioned himself. Hanzo then scooted himself onto Jesse so that he was atop his knees and their chests were pressed together. He rested his chin on Jesse’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around him. “Get me prepared,” Hanzo mumbled.

“Alright, baby.” Jesse squirted some of the lube over his fingers and reached around to Hanzo’s backside, prodding a finger against his hole.

“Wait!” Hanzo gasped. Jesse immediately moved his hand away. “Sorry, just…just kiss me when you do it, okay?”

Jesse nodded and captured Hanzo’s lips in a loving kiss. It was slow and far less sloppy than their previous kisses. When Hanzo felt Jesse’s first finger gently enter him, he did not panic; he only moved to deepen the kiss.

The feeling was weird and not exactly pleasurable quite yet. As moments passed, Hanzo realized that Jesse was waiting for a cue to continue, so he nodded. Jesse inserted a second finger and scissored them around inside of him. It was a tight fit but not particularly painful.

Things began to get a bit more painful with the slow insertion of Jesse’s third finger. Hanzo groaned as Jesse slowly moved the digits in and out, loosening up his muscles. With every gentle thrust, some of the sting dissipated. There was a distant pleasurable feeling in Hanzo’s gut, and when Jesse suddenly curved his fingers upward, Hanzo arched his back and exhaled.

Jesse smiled and continued stroking his prostate, and Hanzo bit his hand, continuing to arch further and further back until he realized that he might lose his balance. Jesse was there to place a hand on Hanzo’s back and keep him upright.

Hanzo pushed at Jesse’s bicep, and the cowboy pulled his fingers from Hanzo’s hole. “Okay,” Hanzo panted. “Okay.”

“Ready?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah.”

With a nod, Jesse grabbed the condom and slid it onto his cock. He squirted some more lube into his hand and took hold of both of their cocks together, pumping them and coating them both with the slippery gel. Jesse then wiped his hand on Hanzo’s sheets, shooting an apologetic smile when Hanzo glared, and he shifted them both so that his cock head was pressing against Hanzo’s entrance. “Go at your own pace,” Jesse said.

Hanzo took hold of Jesse’s shoulders to balance himself and slowly sunk down onto the man’s length with a drawn out groan. Once Jesse was fully inside of him, Hanzo rested his head against Jesse once more, waiting for his breath to even out. It stung, but Hanzo knew that would not last; he gave himself a moment to adjust to the feeling of Jesse inside of him.

 _Jesse inside of him_. The thought alone brought a coil of pleasure to Hanzo’s groin. Before long, he bucked his hips, indicated to Jesse that he was ready. Jesse set a soft pace, his unhurried thrusts quickly leaving Hanzo wanting more.

Hanzo bit his hand and rolled his hips to meet the thrusts, heightening the pressure and pleasure. Jesse must have taken the hint, for he soon picked up the pace, the meat of Hanzo’s thighs rippling with every push of Jesse’s cock inside him. Hanzo moaned around his hand, but Jesse reached his own hand up and grabbed Hanzo’s, interlocking their fingers.

“Wanna hear you,” Jesse panted.

Hanzo still tried to keep quiet, but he could not help but let out a loud “aaaah~” when Jesse put pressure on his prostate. The noise only made Jesse thrust faster. Hanzo moved his hands, reaching to grab anything he could. They landed on the back of Jesse’s head, and he pulled the man closer to his chest. While Hanzo arched his back, Jesse nibbled and sucked hickies into his pecs.

Before long, Hanzo found himself laying on the mattress, eyes blurry and head fuzzy as Jesse moved and kissed and sucked his flesh with no restraint. The man’s thrusts became much more erratic as he continued, and suddenly Jesse seized up and groaned loud as he orgasmed.

Hanzo panted and rutted his hips, clawing against Jesse’s back. “Don’t stop.”

Jesse resumed his fast pace, powering through his overstimulation. He took hold of Hanzo’s cock and began pumping in time with the roll of his hips. Hanzo’s moaning grew louder and louder until his mind went blank entirely. As he came all over their chests, Hanzo felt like he was floating.

Jesse pulled out, and Hanzo exhaled. His muscles relaxed as he fully sunk back down onto the mattress, not a care in the world. He listened to Jesse tie off the condom and toss it into the wastebasket before going to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. When he returned it was with a warm washcloth which he used to wipe the cum and lube from Hanzo’s body. Hanzo let him without a second thought.

Jesse then tossed the cloth aside and removed the comforter from under Hanzo’s body to place it over top of him. When Jesse laid down beside him, Hanzo immediately wrapped him in an embrace and closed his eyes.

“Feel good?” Jesse asked.

“Mmm,” he answered.

“Tired?”

Hanzo hummed again in response and pulled Jesse closer still. Jesse laughed quietly, and as Hanzo drifted off, he felt his dragons return and cuddle up between them, their forms soft and cool against his skin.

* * *

Genji walked alone down the hallway that led to his room. He had not seen Hanzo or Jesse all afternoon, but Genji figured that there was likely no negative reason for that. He smiled to himself, happy that his brother was happy. He had seen his brother’s dragons, something Genji thought he would not witness at least for many years to come. It had taken Genji many long years of work with Zenyatta to get to a point where he finally saw his own dragon for the first time. If he was being honest with himself, Genji, in the far corner of his mind, was slightly frustrated that Hanzo had healed quicker than he had. But more than anything, he was overjoyed.

To be at peace was a special thing. On account of the stress and excitement associated with his job, Genji had not felt that way for a good bit of time. He made note to schedule a meditation session with Zenyatta or perhaps ask to spend some one-on-one time with Angie.

Just then, Genji ran straight into his mother. He had not even noticed her approaching. “Apologies,” she said quickly.

“No, I am sorry,” Genji responded. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Akari simply stood there and shifted her weight. She looked like she wanted to say something but could not find the right words. Genji stood there patiently and waited.

“He…really likes the cowboy, huh?” Akari finally asked.

Genji hummed. “Hanzo?”

His mother nodded.

“Yeah…Yeah, I think he does,” Genji answered. He was not sure if he should be spreading this information or of what Akari’s reaction would be. It was not like Hanzo and Jesse were being secretive of their mutual affection, but Genji worried that perhaps Akari had been an exception to that.

“I…I have never seen that look in his eyes before,” Akari whispered.

“What look?”

She thought for a moment and seemed to be turned a few words around in her head. “Maybe it is contentedness. Maybe love. Whatever it may be, I…I enjoy seeing that in him. I never thought I would.”

“Because you gave up on him,” Genji said quietly.

Akari said nothing and looked down. Genji almost felt bad about his words; he had to remind himself that it was his mother who was in the wrong, that she deserved to be chastised.

Finally, his mother looked at him again. “I have something I need to give to you. I would like you to share it with Hanzo as well, but I want to give you it now.”

Genji raised an eyebrow before nodded. “Very well.”

Akari led the youngest Shimada down the hallway to her own living quarters. Genji followed close behind, and as he walked, his communicator pinged with a message from Winston. The agents were to leave in one day, arriving the night before the parade in Dorado. Genji sighed, nodded to himself, and muted the com while his mother let him into her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And hey I made a twitter [@McEuropeskies](https://twitter.com/McEuropeskies)  
> Come say hi if ya want :)


	22. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. We're getting real close to the end! I'll thank you again (because I can't thank you enough) for the wonderful and kind comments that you leave. They really cheer me up. I've been slacking on replies, but just know that I'll get to them. It doesn't mean that I appreciate them any less!!  
> In the meantime, I wrote a New Year's Eve McHan fic if you'd like to check it out (*be aware that it is Explicit and basically a pwp*)
> 
> **Warnings in this chapter: mentions of sexual content, (minor) character death, death in general, blood and gore, violence

"The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,  
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:  
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead."

-"Mad Girl's Love Song" by Sylvia Plath

The Watchpoint was abuzz with preparations for the mission in Dorado. Tracer made sure the Orca was ready to fly, Torbjorn and Brigitte were finishing up necessary armor repairs, and others organized their weapons and ammunition. Despite the business, the halls where Hanzo would have normally heard echoes of laughter were unusually quiet. He felt that he would be able the hear a pin drop, and the tension – or perhaps, the anxiety – spread like a plague. This was the first large mission that many of the agents were assigned to since the Overwatch recall, and Hanzo knew that the lack of certainty about what was to come had a tendency to morph into fear.

Almost every agent had been assigned to travel to Dorado, and Akari Shimada was among them. Hanzo had heard her claims that she was helping them, that she was invested in giving them information to stop Talon, but if there was one thing that she had taught Hanzo, it was not to trust. Perhaps she was leading them into a trap. Perhaps she was only working to double-cross them. All of the possibilities had been taken into account, and although there seemed to be a solid threat to Dorado civilians, Hanzo was still certainly going to keep a close eye on his mother throughout the mission.

The uncertainly was intense, almost overwhelming. Hanzo and Jesse had wordlessly decided to spend every moment together until they left for Mexico, for Hanzo knew that once they arrived, they would not see each other until the mission ended. Jesse would be positioned on the ground and Hanzo on the rooftops. Hanzo did not want to leave the man’s side, but it was their duty.

Jesse seemed just as thrilled as Hanzo about the predicament. The cowboy was not as witty and fun-loving as he normally was, and Hanzo noticed the frowns and thousand-yard stares that creeped onto Jesse’s face throughout the day. After they had finished preparing their weapons, they had some hours to spare. Full on energy bars and protein, the two laid down to watch a movie that neither of them paid attention to. They alternated between cuddling, kissing, and making love until it was time to gear up and board the dropship.

As they got dressed side-by-side in Jesse’s room, the cowboy slotted himself against Hanzo’s hips, resting his chin on the shorter man’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna go,” Jesse whispered. “I’m so tired, babydoll.”

Hanzo sighed and gave Jesse a kiss on his cheek. It was ridiculous how many missions Jesse had already participated in; he was one man. One _amazing_ man, but still human nonetheless. “I know,” Hanzo whispered back.

“Remember when we were in Rialto,” Jesse began again, “and that woman, Selina, tried t’kill me? ‘N she told me that, because of that Blackwatch mission, she grew up without her father. She was…so angry and so sad. And I know we’re supposedly here t’kill bad folks, but what about the families we break apart, the damage we leave behind us when the mission’s said and done? I can’t help but think we’re just perpetuating this cycle of violence, and no matter what Talon will win. I just feel hopeless, Han.”

Hanzo took in Jesse’s words and nodded. He knew firsthand about the stress and traumas that violence wrought. Negative consequences lurked around every corner, and the knowledge of that was enough to make anyone feel that hopelessness. “There is not much that we can do presently. I am at a loss.”

Jesse sighed and shook his head. “I know, I just…I don’t know why I’m saying it. You’re just easy to talk to.”

Hanzo gave Jesse another short kiss. “My sweet Jesse, how about when we get back, I treat you right. I will make you tea and your favorite foods and we will watch movies and relax. And then perhaps we could talk about this more then and figure out if there is something we can do.”

“Aw, baby, you always treat me right,” Jesse laughed. “Thank you.”

Hanzo smiled, and the two finished getting dressed in silence. When they were ready to leave for the ship, they shared one long, loving look, and Hanzo knew what it meant. He just knew that they were both thinking the same thing: _please stay safe._

* * *

It was nearing sundown when they arrived, and the streets of Dorado were already decorated for tomorrows festivities. Piñatas, streamers, and now-empty activity booths lined the streets. Plenty of people were still up and about, traversing to restaurants or running errands. It was not an ideal time for Talon to plant the bombs; they would likely wait until nightfall when the streets were quiet.

Until then, Winston had split the agents up, assigning each group to keep an eye on different security stations around the city. Medics such as Zenyatta, Lucio, and Angela were told to stay secure until their skills were required, and Hanzo hoped that they would not be needed at all. As expected, Hanzo and Ana were posted on the rooftops, giving them a bird’s eye view of the Dorado market square and surrounding security stations. They were to watch for suspicious activity and provide backup when needed.

For now, all was quiet. Together Hanzo and Ana stayed out of sight and used their vantage point to scout the area. The sun was slowly setting, and the reds and yellows and purples that painted the sky glimmered off of the windows and the water of the large fountain in the square, masking all impurities with the bright, natural cosmetic. Streetlights turned on and people began heading back home for the night. As he and Ana waited, the old sniper turned to Hanzo, calm and approachable as she always was.

“I hear that you and Jesse are dating now,” she whispered with a smirk.

Hanzo nodded slowly, not quite knowing what he should say.

Ana hummed. “It is good for him – for _both_ of you. I hope you make each other happy.”

“I am happy when I am with him. Jesse also seems happy, but as of late he seems…stressed about his work,” Hanzo said.

Ana stayed silent for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Jesse has never quite been happy with the work we do here. Too much unnecessary violence and innocents caught in the crossfire, as he would say. I believe he stays because fighting is all he knows, and he enjoys the company. He does not want to be alone anymore.”

Hanzo stared, finding it shocking how much Jesse’s motives related to his own. “I see,” Hanzo said, frowning.

“And you? Why do you stay?”

Hanzo took a moment to think. “For Genji,” he finally said, “and now for Jesse as well. I seek redemption and to atone for the evil I have enacted.”

“And this is the only way to do that?” Ana asked.

Hanzo exhaled deeply before shaking his head. “I do not know.”

“Well, I hope you find yourself – you and Jesse both.”

Before Hanzo could reply, he heard an odd, metallic _reeling_ from the building across from them. When he and Ana looked over, they saw a silhouette shoot themself to the roof of the building with what looked like a grappling hook. Hanzo and Ana shared a look before Ana spoke into her communicator. “Movement on the building directly in front of the clock tower,” she said quietly. “Looks like Widowmaker.”

“Copy,” came Jack’s voice. “Backup standing nearby.”

“Observe for now,” Winston said.

“Copy,” Ana replied, and from their cover, she watched Widowmaker through her scope.

“What is she doing?” Hanzo whispered.

Ana kept watching. “Just…talking to somebody through her earpiece…so she certainly is not the only one here.”

Ana voiced her observation into the communicator, and the two of them watched in silence for a few minutes longer. “Now she is looking around,” Ana said slowly. “Just…looking…”

Hanzo watched Ana, and suddenly he noticed the woman’s eye go wide. “Down!” she yelled and pushed Hanzo down by his head just as a bullet whizzed past them and planted itself in the brick wall behind them. When they got back up, Widowmaker was nowhere in sight.

“Lost sight of her,” Hanzo barked into his comm. “She knows we’re here.”

“Find her and stay low!” Jack said. “More movement in the square. Those units not guarding the security stations, fall in here!”

“Yeah…what he said,” said Winston.

Last came Jesse’s voice as he mumbled a soft “Stay safe,” into the channel. Hanzo allowed himself a smile before he scanned the area once more.

“Did you see where she went?” he asked Ana.

The woman quickly shook her head, and then, in the same breath, Ana was on the ground crying out in pain. She clutched her shoulder as blood gushed from a fresh bullet wound. Then, Widowmaker flung herself directly in front of them, her sights aimed on the fallen sniper. “My, my,” she said. “The legendary Ana Amari hesitates again. C'est pathétique, chérie. When will you learn?”

Hanzo growled and notched an arrow, placing his body between Ana and Widowmaker. “Enough,” he said, and Widowmaker’s smile grew.

“Ah, Hanzo,” she said, lowering her weapon. “No need to become feisty. We have been searching for you.”

“ _Searching for me?_ ” Hanzo spat. “Pathetic.”

Widowmaker chuckled. “I like your style,” she said, taking a step closer. “You would fit in wonderfully with us. These people,” she spat, looking down at Ana, “you are above them. Talon would give you the power to restore your family’s empire and run it how _you_ see fit.”

“The cost would be too great,” Hanzo said back.

“Oui,” the sniper said. “Perhaps you fear a… _repeat_ …of the past? Well, chérie, I assure you, that if you were to join us, we would make sure that your past would _never_ haunt you again. Refuse, and…well, perhaps there will be consequences.”

Hanzo and Widowmaker stared at one another, locked in a mental stalemate. Hanzo still trained his arrow on the woman, but he did not make a move. All the while, Widowmaker’s smile did not leave her face.

* * *

Akari Shimada took pride in her gracefulness and clean kills. In a cold, dark alleyway, she finished off the Talon and Los Muertos goons who she had spotted taking out the cameras around the security station that she was guarding. She was outnumbered three-to-one, but the fight went quick; not one of her targets had seen her coming.

The soldiers sat crumpled on the stone ground, dead and bleeding. They were fit but too young to have learned to expect the worst from every situation, too young to have been prepared for her strike. Akari looked down at them and shook her head.

“Clean as always,” said a voice behind her.

Akari whirled around to find Sombra leaning against a building, watching her with a smile.

“I am surprised you didn’t help your friends,” Akari said, gesturing at the bodies.

“Believe me, I knew they were goners the moment you saw them. I won’t interfere when I know there’s no winning. And, Mrs. Shimada, you’re a strong one. Not someone I’d want to fight against.”

Akari sighed and pulled down her white hood which had become soaked with sweat. She pushed back some of her hair and looked Sombra up and down. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. You’re my friend, and I know when my friends have been feeling down.” Sombra pushed herself off of the wall and took a step closer. “Some family troubles?”

“You know nothing—”

“I know more than you think,” Sombra chuckled. She gestured her hand upwards, and Akari followed the line of focus until she spotted Hanzo on the rooftops. He was standing still, guarding Ana with an arrow pointed at Widowmaker. Akari frowned.

“You expected him to turn out as nothing but evil, a shell of a man just like Sojiro,” Sombra continued, “so you distanced yourself. But the guilt at finding out that you were wrong is eating you alive. You found out that, all along, _you_ were the shell, unwilling to show love. Am I right?”

Akari glared back at her but remained silent. If she were to speak, Akari knew that her voice would be shaky and sad, revealing the truth behind Sombra’s words. So she said nothing.

“You and I know two things,” Sombra said. “You care for your family and,” Sombra took another step closer, her voice lowering, “as long as you are with Overwatch, Talon will not stand a chance. But if it is your family you wish to protect, you might want to keep an eye on our little cowboy, okay?”

And just like that, Sombra disappeared into a wisp of purple sparks, translocating away from Akari and off to someplace safer. Akari thought over Sombra’s words and rubbed her temples. She cast another look up to her eldest son, still standing in front of Ana, his stance protective, and Akari could not help but smile.

* * *

As Hanzo and Ana stared on another down, out of the corner of his eye, Hanzo spotted Ana shifting behind him. Widowmaker saw her too, for as Ana moved to shoot a dart at the other sniper, Widow raised her rifle.

To Hanzo, all seemed to move in slow motion. Widowmaker’s finger moved to the trigger, and in that moment, Hanzo did not need to think. He knew what he wanted. Talon’s threats did not scare him. Not anymore.

He let his arrow fly, and Widowmaker let loose a spray of bullets into the air as her aim was disrupted. Her gaze shot back to Hanzo, and she narrowed her eyes. “Stay out of my way,” Widowmaker spat, but as she went to raise her rifle again, she found her arm weak and shaky.

She tried again, and this time Widowmaker lost her grip on her rifle. It slid to the ground with a clank. She attempted to take a step forward, but she lost her balance and fell to her knees. Finally, she looked down and saw the arrow protruding from her chest.

“Oh,” she breathed and forced a laugh. “You shot me.”

Hanzo watched as she sat on the flat roof, leaning her back against the wall of another building. Beside him, Ana shot up and cautiously approached her, still gripping her shoulder. “We need medical attention,” Hanzo yelled into his comm. “On the roof, north side of the square. Hurry.”

“On my way,” Lucio replied. Then Hanzo focused once more on the scene in front of him.

Widowmaker was looking past them, up to the night sky. “I didn’t even feel a thing,” she mumbled to nobody in particular. Then she looked down to the streets below them. Hanzo followed her gaze down beneath the clock tower, and there he spotted Jesse McCree, surrounded by Talon soldiers and facing off against one man wearing all black and a white skull mask. The man…did not seem human. The way he smoked and shifted around Jesse was otherworldly.

Hanzo’s eyes went wide. What had Jesse been doing there? Was he keeping an eye on Hanzo? He notched an arrow and took out an agent behind Jesse. Behind him, Widowmaker whispered a name over and over again. “Gerard,” she repeated. “Oh, Gerard.”

Then the smoking man appeared behind Jesse and shot him straight in his back. Hanzo watched Jesse crash to the ground, and he felt blood rushing, his heart thumping in his ears. Everything went cold, and Hanzo screamed.

He climbed from the building and ran, thinking of nothing but Jesse. Hanzo felt his entire body light up, his dragons taking over. There were so many Talon soldiers before him, but he did not care. He would fight them. He would _kill them._

Then, suddenly, he felt weaker, like the life and power was being drained from him. He turned to find a tall, slender woman with bright orange hair nearby, purple currents flowing from her hand and latching to Hanzo’s body, draining his energy.

Hanzo notched an arrow and fired at the men surrounding Jesse, taking them out one-by-one, but his dragons would not come. He was too drained. He screamed again in frustration and fell to his knees.

“Do you love him?” a voice in his earpiece asked.

“What?”

“Do you love him? Jesse McCree.”

“Yes!” Hanzo shrieked. “Yes, I love him!”

Suddenly, a gust of wind flung Hanzo backwards and out of the orange-haired woman’s reach. A white dragon swirled into view, and upon its back stood Akari, knives in hand. She flew towards Jesse, taking out any soldier who stood in her way. She was a tornado of power, and Hanzo could not help but stare in shock, watching the gracefulness with which she rode her spirit dragon and killed her enemies. Only occasional droplets of blood stained her white cloak and blades.

Hanzo noticed the orange-haired woman smile at him before fading away like a ghost. He stood once more and then heard one resounding shot echo in the night. “Jesse!” Hanzo yelled and ran closer to the scene, passing the dozens of bodies his mother left behind.

Before he arrived, his mother’s white dragon let out a long, ear-piercing howl. Hanzo paused to clamp his hands over his ears, and he watched the white dragon fly upwards, disappearing into the night. Hanzo slowly lowered his hands before walking past more bodies to where Jesse and Akari laid.

The ghostly man was nowhere in sight, but he was no longer in Hanzo’s thoughts. Not now. He fell to his knees beside Jesse and his mother, both of them face down in two pools of blood, slowly flowing to form one large body of liquid. Hanzo crawled over to Jesse and tilted the man’s head to the side so he could see his face. He pushed Jesse’s matted hair out of his closed eyes and gently kissed the man’s forehead.

 _No, please, it couldn’t end here_ , Hanzo thought. He was just becoming happy. This couldn’t be the end already. He envisioned a future, one with Jesse in by his side. One in which they were happy and lived and loved comfortably. One where, most of all, Jesse was alive and safe. Hanzo thought that, at last, he could have something that lifted his soul, that would make his suffering dissipate.

Hanzo began chanting “Please, not now, please no, please Jesse don’t leave me, don’t leave me” between more kisses to Jesse’s face. There were frantic voices behind him, but Hanzo did not care who they were. He wanted Jesse.

Then large, armored arms were lifting Hanzo up and away from Jesse. He squirmed and yelled and fought against them through tears. He kicked back against the body behind him, but the hold did not give; they had him trapped in an embrace. “We need to let Angela work,” Reinhardt said sadly into Hanzo’s ear.

Hanzo did not take his eyes off of Jesse even as Angela and Zenyatta came into view to work on the two fallen agents. Then one of Reinhardt’s hands left Hanzo to push back another figure – Genji. Hanzo spared a glance away from Jesse to see his brother, armor covered in blood, remove his faceplate to reveal a distressed expression.

Zenyatta left Akari’s side with a sigh and floated over to Genji, pulling the cyborg close to him and immediately calming him down. Hanzo looked back at Angela, who was still hard at work on Jesse, and he used Genji’s distraction as an opportunity to slide free of Reinhardts grasp.

There was a prick in his thigh as Hanzo escaped, and he stumbled. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked to find Ana next to him, steadied by Lucio with her shoulder bandaged. Then Hanzo shifted his gaze to the sleep dart she had shoved into his thigh.

“Pulse…weak…get him…” Hanzo heard as his vision began to fade. He watched as Fareeha and Jack came into view holding stretchers. Jesse was carefully maneuvered onto one, and that was the last Hanzo saw before he finally succumbed to the slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And hey I made a twitter [@McEuropeskies](https://twitter.com/McEuropeskies)  
> Come say hi if ya want :)


	23. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeey! How's everyone doing? So this is the longest chapter yet, and the next one will be a sort of epilogue. Then it's all over! aaaaaa  
> Anyway, thanks as always and I really can't believe we're almost at 1,000 kudos...you guys are amazing!
> 
> Warnings in this chapter: continuation of the discussion of character death from the last chapter, mentions of blood/gore, references to abuse, funeral mentions

Angela Zielger considered herself a very level-headed professional. She had seen the worst that the medical field had to offer from battle-induced amputations to absolute mutilations, and that was not even to mention the severe traumas she helped patients work through after their physical treatments were through. But nothing could ever stop the heart-wrenching sorrow she felt when one of her patients lost their life.

It was debilitating – the inevitability of mortality. No matter how far medicine progressed, how advanced her practices became, she could not save everybody. That fact broke her heart no matter who the patient happened to be, because perhaps if her technology had been _just a little_ more advanced or the injury had taken place _just a bit_ more into the future, Angela would have had the means to save them. But once you saw a person off, dead and buried, there was no changing that. _At least_ , Angela thought, _not this time_.

Akari Shimada was dead before the rest of the agents had even gotten to her. The bullet from Reaper’s shotgun snuck up on her, hitting the back of her skull and killing her instantly. Her body was cleaned, and she was given a funeral fit for any Overwatch agent, one that nearly everyone at the Watchpoint attended.

Angela had watched as Genji gave the eulogy, tearfully telling stories of his mother from his childhood, occasionally cracking a joke to brighten the mood. She knew that Genji was acting okay more for the sake of everyone else. She knew that, after the mission, Genji had cried for hours on end, incoherent and unresponsive. Angela had carefully watched over him; she knew what comforted him. He had always craved warmth and affection, so Angela made sure to wrap Genji in soft blankets, give him light kisses, and hold him close until there were no tears left.

That was three days ago. Genji was doing better, but the sadness still radiated from him. “I don’t know why this is so hard,” he said to Angela. “I already lost her once. It shouldn’t be so hard to lose her again, especially when I was…so angry at her.”

“Perhaps you felt that you did not end on a good foot, and that makes you feel guilty,” Angela whispered, and Genji nodded along.

“I do feel incomplete,” Genji said. “I guess…I’ll need to work through that.”

Genji took Angela’s hand and kissed her knuckles, a silent display of thanks. She gave him a smile which took him a few long moments to return. “How’s Jesse?” he asked eventually.

Jesse McCree’s wound had luckily ended up far better than Akari’s. The bullet entered his back, but no shrapnel had punctured any major organs. It was still a nasty injury that Angela had dealt with immediately, removing the bullet and giving the man stitches. He had also lost a lot of blood and required a transfusion, but he was alive.

He was _alive_ , but the fact remained that Jesse was still in a coma, and Hanzo was still a mess.

“He’s stable,” Angela replied.

“And Hanzo?”

Angela knew that the question had been coming, but she sighed nonetheless. After waking from Ana’s tranquilizer in a hospital bed, Hanzo had immediately gone to search for Jesse. When he found his boyfriend, Angela had been in the midst of surgically extracting the bullet, and she could not risk the interference. Ana put Hanzo to sleep once more and hooked him up to IV fluids.

When Hanzo found Jesse the second time, the cowboy was no longer in critical condition. Angela allowed Hanzo to stay in the room as she took Jesse’s vitals, and he had not left his boyfriend’s side since. Every time Angela entered to check on them, Hanzo was in the same position, an unwavering empty expression sealed to his face as he held on to Jesse’s hand.

Hanzo slept and ate in Jesse’s room, only leaving to use the bathroom. Sometimes, Angela caught him whispering to the cowboy and kissing his knuckles, the same way that Genji did to her. “Please come back to me,” he would say, his voice never cracking once. He had not shed tears since Jesse arrived back at the Watchpoint, almost as if he believed that he had to be strong for the both of them, that if he broke down, then Jesse would too.

The only time that Hanzo broke his façade was when Winston had entered Jesse’s room to ask about his mission report. Then, Angela watched Hanzo’s expression darken, anger overtaking him. “Fuck the mission!” Hanzo had yelled, standing and pointing a finger in Winston’s face. “Who was supposed to be teamed with Jesse?! Why had he been alone?! You are a terrible leader!”

Winston had left without another word. Angela felt for him; when there was death, there was blame. Winston had not been able to be everywhere at once, but he was the commander now. It was easiest to point fingers at him.

Finally, Angela looked back over to Genji who was still awaiting an answer. “He will be okay,” she said. “We all will.” And if she spoke the words into existence, then perhaps they would come true.

* * *

_Beeping. Pain. Heavy chest. A groan – his own voice, miles away. Another voice – calling his name. A light, bright. Too bright. Darkness. Shifting, then a torturous throb up his spine. Panting breath. A soft touch on his cheek._

_The other voice – calling again, not his name. A third approaches, checking his body, pushing back his sweaty hair._

_Someone squeezed his hand. Whispered “I love you.”_

_Jesse opened his eyes._

* * *

When Jesse regained consciousness, he saw Hanzo looking down at him from his seat next to the hospital bed, eyes more intense than Jesse had ever seen them. He was still in a daze; everything was blurred around him, and it took Jesse’s mind some time to catch up with his body. All the while, Jesse felt Hanzo squeezing his hand. Hanzo’s fingers shook, and he was nearly digging his nails into Jesse’s flesh, but the touch grounded him nonetheless.

“McCree?”

Jesse looked over at Angela who was hovering over the other side of his bed. Strands of her blonde hair had come loose from her ponytail and were straying in every direction, and the bags under her eyes had certainly grown since the last time Jesse saw her. She was holding a tablet, ready to record any changes in Jesse’s condition. He chanced a smile at her, one that she did not return.

“Hey,” Jesse said, his voice coming out huskier than expected. His throat felt dry and sore, likely from lack of use. “How long was I out, doc?”

“Three days,” Angela said bluntly. She checked the monitors next to his bed and recorded his vitals. “On a scale of one to ten, tell me your pain.”

Jesse blinked slowly, feeling himself close to drifting off again. The pain was not excruciating – in fact, it was not even constant. It seemed to slowly be drifting away as the seconds ticked by. “Uh, honestly, maybe a two or three? Might not even have to stay here long.”

“Well, I just gave you an injection of morphine as you were waking up, so it only means the medicine is kicking in,” Angela said, no longer looking at Jesse. “You’ll stay here as long as I say.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jesse whispered.

Angela sighed as she finished recording her data. She looked to Hanzo, her eyes softer than they had been a moment before, but Hanzo did not seem to notice. He was staring down at Jesse’s hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his hairy knuckles. “Everything is looking good,” Angela said more to herself than anyone. “I’ll be back to check on you in an hour, but I’ll leave the two of you alone to talk for now.”

Then they were alone, and Jesse was suddenly at a loss for words. What could he say? _Sorry I almost died. Sorry scared you like I did. Sorry I gave you happiness, only to almost destroy it completely._

“My mother saved you,” Hanzo suddenly blurted, barely above a whisper.

“Oh,” Jesse said. That came as a surprise, Akari saving a person who was dear to Hanzo. He was still thankful, just shocked that it had not been someone else – like Lena or Jack or Reinhart – who came to the rescue. “I’ll hafta thank her a million times over.”

“She’s dead,” said Hanzo.

 _Oh_. “Shit, sugar, I—”

“Do _not_ call me that!” Hanzo growled, but Jesse heard his voice crack. A stray tear rolled down the other man’s cheek, and Jesse felt his heart ache. “How could you call me that?”

Jesse felt the tears welling in his own eyes as he thought of the fear Hanzo must have felt over the past few days, fear of losing yet another person close to him. The guilt, the pain, the _anger_ at Jesse risking his life. But wasn’t his job to risk his life? Did it have to be this way?

“You _are_ my sugar,” Jesse said. Through the tears, he smiled up at Hanzo and cupped his cheek. “I love you too.”

They cried together, Hanzo burying his head in Jesse’s chest, gripping fistfuls of the hospital gown as he sobbed. Jesse cradled Hanzo’s head, letting his tears flow into his boyfriend’s soft hair while the prickly shaved sides of Hanzo’s scalp tickled his cheek.

Tragedy was a strange thing, Jesse thought. It could tear people apart, break up families, and force people into isolation. It could also bring people closer. Hell, when people knew what darkness looked like, they understood more than ever how important those moments of happiness were. Jesse lived through countless bouts of darkness sometimes so intense that he thought that he’d never see happiness again. Hanzo had lived through those same dark times, and Jesse knew now for sure that he never wanted to leave Hanzo’s side, for both their sakes.

“Do not ever do that again,” Hanzo mumbled against Jesse’s chest after the tears had all finally dried.

“I won’t, baby. I won’t.”

And he meant it.

* * *

Angela kept him in the hospital wing for two more days so that she could closely monitor how Jesse’s wound was healing. And, Jesse supposed, she did not want him getting into trouble and accidentally tearing his stiches. Jesse knew that she was frustrated with him – she was always frustrated when those close to her ended up in the hospital wing yet again – but he also knew that her dismal mood stemmed from love.

As did Hanzo’s. Luckily, though, Hanzo had seemed to perk up during the past few days after realizing that Jesse wasn’t going anywhere. Granted, the other man was annoyed when Jesse told him to go and get some rest, take a shower, and take care of himself, but Hanzo ultimately listened. “You’re the one who smells,” he had said before leaving Jesses room, only to return some hours later wearing fresh clothes and smelling of flowery shampoo.

Hanzo took care of him all the while. He stayed sitting next to Jesse’s bed for hours on end, either talking to his boyfriend or reading some of the many books he brought along. On the first day after Jesse awoke, Hanzo brought Jesse freshly-made biscochitos and green tea. “I promised that I would treat you right,” Hanzo said, and Jesse pulled him down for a kiss.

He was in love. Jesse knew that he and Hanzo and not been dating for that long, but it was true. He was completely and totally in love with Hanzo Shimada.

He craved domesticity and peace with Hanzo. He desired a quiet life in which they could do normal things like go on dates and pick up hobbies together. He wanted to love Hanzo like he deserved, with no disruptive fears or dangers.

On the second day of Jesse’s bedrest, Hanzo approached the foot of Jesse’s bed, a concerned look on his face. Then, he began massaging Jesse’s calf muscles through the blankets, a bit of force present in his fingers but overall tender. “Your legs have not been being used,” he explained. “The muscles need exercise.”

Hanzo was right – the muscles needed exercise. He wanted to run. Run far away from this place with Hanzo’s hand in his.

Jesse leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s waist, trapping him in an embrace. He pulled Hanzo along with him as he laid back down on the bed. “Jesse!” Hanzo scolded. “Stop straining yourself.”

“I ain’t,” Jesse said with a smile. “Jus’ want ya to lay down with me is all.”

Hanzo hummed and slowly removed himself from Jesse’s grasp. “Well, then, move over. _Carefully_.”

Jesse made room for Hanzo on the small mattress, and Hanzo made himself comfortable on his side next to his boyfriend. Jesse saw how gentle Hanzo was, even when simply lying beside him; he was sure not to bump Jesse or move his pillow or blankets away from him. Jesse therefore took the initiative to cuddle up to the other man’s chest. “Careful,” Hanzo whispered again.

“I ain’t a piece of glass, babydoll,” Jesse said, laughing and letting his eyes drift closed. Hanzo sighed and wrapped his arms around Jesse, avoiding touching the wound on his back. It was not long before Jesse drifted off. He was warm against Hanzo’s body and listened to the thrum of his boyfriend’s steady heartbeat until he felt at peace.

He was not sure how long he stayed asleep, but when Jesse opened his eyes, Hanzo was in the same spot, lovingly looking down at him while stroking his brown locks. Jesse could not stop the tumble of words that fell from his lips as he snapped out of his post-nap daze.

“Run away with me.”

Hanzo stopped the movement of his hand, fingers still tangled in Jesse’s hair. He laid there, frozen and mouth agape, until Jesse’s words seemed to finally sink in. “What?”

“Let’s leave this place,” Jesse said. “Just start a new life – one that ain’t so dangerous ‘n heartbreaking.”

“Jesse…”

“I know…It’s a big step, and I’m sayin’ this outta the blue, but I can’t stand to see you get hurt anymore. _I_ can’t stand to get hurt anymore.” Jesse knew that he was rambling, but he could not stand to let his idea die without it ever being spoken aloud. “We could retire…do regular couple things.”

Hanzo inhaled deeply and took a moment to respond. “You are serious.”

“Sure am.”

Hanzo’s hand resumed stroking Jesse’s hair, but he averted his intense gaze to the wall. “We are not _regular_ ,” he finally said.

“We could try t’be,” Jesse responded.

“I…” Hanzo took a breath and rubbed the bride of his nose. “I am unsure.”

Jesse offered a comforting smile. “Ya don’t gotta be sure, doll. Don’t even gotta say yes. I’m puttin’ the idea out there, but I’ll follow you anywhere. Just think that it might be good to…live a little bit without the pressure to fight, do stuff calmly without the fear of dyin’. Just a chance to…see what it’s like, livin’ normally. Bein’ happy.”

Hanzo was silent once more, and Jesse watched his expressions change, face morphing between soft and harsh, as he thought over the idea. “I…What of Genji?” Hanzo asked. “I came here for him…to atone for my actions. How could I just leave?”

Jesse nodded. “I get ya, but I don’t think Genji would _ever_ be mad at you for doin’ something that made you happy.” He leaned up and kissed Hanzo’s cheek. “We all just want ya to be happy, Hanzo. If this place is where you feel happy, I’m not tryin’ to tear ya away.”

Hanzo nodded. “I know you are not, and I would be lying if I said the offer did not sound appealing, but…I need some time to think.”

“Of course, baby,” Jesse said. “And know that any decision’s good with me.”

Hanzo hummed, and two dissolved into silence. They held one another until Angela returned to discharge Jesse and remind him not to participate in any straining activities until she advised that it was okay. She told Hanzo to keep an eye on him, and Hanzo promised that he would. Jesse smiled all the while knowing that, whatever Hanzo decided, he was just happy to have the other man in his life.

* * *

At thirty-eight, Hanzo watched his mother die. After a childhood full of suffering, he had learned not to trust her, to be angry with her. He had even learned recently that he was allowed to be angry with her; it was right, even. But then he watched his mother lose her life to save his boyfriend.

It was perhaps the first and last nice good deed that she did for him. Granted, he had never known what had gone on behind closed doors between his mother and the clan. Maybe she had fought for him; maybe she had not. Now he would never know.

Hanzo did not know how to feel. He was not heartless, but he was not full of sadness from her passing either. It made him feel guilty. He should feel _something_. Thankfulness for her final actions, sorrow, pain, _anything_.

He did not even attend her funeral. If there was an afterlife, he assumed that she would not be surprised by his absence. Jesse was his number one priority, and Hanzo needed to stay by his side. Akari was dead before he could even think to thank her.

But today, he and Genji were visiting Akari’s grave. Even Hanzo was shocked that it was his own idea. Nonetheless, there they were at the old graveyard near the Watchpoint in which many of Overwatch’s agents had previously been buried. With them, they brought a bouquet of white roses.

Their walk to the cemetery was mostly silent, and Hanzo did not mind that. As had rarely been the case, the silence between them was not awkward. It seemed natural, powerful. At that moment, during a time of loss, they were simply there for one another, and Hanzo was not sure if that had ever happened before.

After laying the sweet-smelling flowers in front of their mother’s grave, they were quiet for a few more moments. “She was a complicated woman,” Genji finally said.

“Her death was honorable,” said Hanzo. “What she did for Jesse was…selfless.”

“How are you feeling?” Genji asked, patting his brother on the shoulder.

Hanzo sighed. “I am not sure. I believe that the better question is how are _you_ doing? The two of you were much closer. I hope that…you are holding up well.”

“I am much better now,” Genji replied. “Thank you”

Hanzo nodded, and they stood in silence once more. There was a chill in the air, but the sun still shone strong and kept them warm. For that, Hanzo was thankful. He had never cared much for the cold.

“The mission was still labeled a success,” Genji murmured after some time had passed. “I suppose, even with everything that happened, we completed our jobs.”

“I may be leaving,” Hanzo blurted suddenly causing Genji to look at him slowly. “I…Jesse and I may be leaving.”

“I see,” Genji said.

“We would like to live a calmer life. You and Angela should come with us.”

Genji took some time to respond – so much time that Hanzo thought he might have short-circuited. “Brother, my place is here,” he finally said. “And I am almost certain that Angela would say the same.”

Hanzo nodded once more and looked away. “But,” Genji continued, “I want you to continue to be happy. If leaving is what you think will do that for you, then I am excited to see where your adventures will take you.”

“You will not be upset?”

Genji smiled at him. “As long as you leave me a way to contact you, no, I won’t be upset.” And then Genji was pulling him in for a hug.

Hanzo slotted himself against the cool, metal body of his brother and returned the embrace. It felt nice, like something he had been waiting for for a long time whether he knew it or not. _Resolution_ was the only way that Hanzo could describe it, an end to one chapter of his life and the start of another. Something better. Something new.

“I have something to give to you,” Genji said as he moved away. “I meant to give you your half earlier, but then there was so much chaos it just slipped my mind.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow as Genji pulled a banking card out of his pocket along with a small piece of paper with what looked like passwords written on it. He handed the items over to Hanzo with a smirk. “Don’t go spending it all in one place.”

“What is this?” Hanzo asked.

“I guess there was a reason why the Shimada clan went looking for mom with such force. Turns out she took quite a bit of money from them,” Genji said with a shrug.

Hanzo’s mouth fell open. “How much money is this?”

“Oh not much…about…twenty million?”

“Twenty million _what?_ ”

“Dollars,” Genji finished with a toothy grin.

“You are…you are kidding.”

Genji laughed. “Nope. Consider it an early going-away present. Maybe you and Jess could buy a nice home. But remember, half of its mine!”

Hanzo pulled Genji in for another hug as he cyborg continued laughing. Now he knew that, if they left, he and Jesse could definitely live comfortably. They would not have to work any more jobs that they did not want or worry about having to come crawling back to Overwatch. It seemed miraculous.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said as he held on tightly to his brother.

“I didn’t do a thing,” Genji said. “It was all mom.”

Hanzo pulled away and took one final long look at his mother’s grave. She was not evil, but she was not good either. She was, like Genji said, complicated, but Hanzo supposed that he was as well. He truly believed that, in the end, his mother regretted how she had treated him. Now, he could ask nothing more from her, so Hanzo did what felt right to him.

He forgave Akari Shimada.

There was no excuse for what she did to him. There was no taking back her terrible actions. But Hanzo knew then that he did not want to be angry at his mother anymore. She had given him her life, her entire being, and to Hanzo, that was enough. Now, he wanted her to rest easy; perhaps she had never gotten the chance to.

Hanzo gave a nod to his mother’s grave. “Thank you,” he said, unsure if she would ever hear his words.

* * *

Two days later, Hanzo and Jesse approached Winston in his office with their bags packed and their plane tickets to Santa Fe in hand. The suddenness of it all still made Hanzo nervous. He was leaving behind everything he had ever known – fighting, strategizing, killing. Although, Hanzo felt in his bones that this would be good for him, for the _both_ of them. Perhaps they would bicker and argue, but at the end of the day, there would be no threat of death. They would still have each other.

“So you’re really leaving then?” Winston asked, eyeing their suitcases.

“Sorry big guy,” Jesse said. “No hard feelings.”

Winston sighed and scratched the back of his neck. He looked away from the two of them and began pacing the room. “We…we need you two.”

Jesse shook his head. “Y’don’t need us. You just _want_ us, but there are plenty of good fighters out there who could be better heroes than us. Just you wait ‘n see.”

Winston began rambling as he continued to pace. “Widowmaker could still be out there. We never found a body, and we need a good sniper to fight against her and—“

“Commander,” Hanzo interrupted. “I apologize for letting you down, but I do not believe that I will be of much use here any longer.” He took a deep breath before continuing, having gained the full attention of Jesse and Winston. “I have grown to desire a quieter life, and I do not think that I would be able to fight to my fullest capacity with that want eating at the back of my brain. Perhaps it is selfish of me, and for that I apologize again. It seems that, as usual, there is no easy answer to our predicament. However, Jesse and I will still be leaving, and I hope that you can understand our decision.”

Winston stood still and was silent. He expelled a long breath from his nostrils and shook his head. “I do understand,” he said, rubbing his temples. “Believe it or not, I do. I…I don’t think this is the best decision, but I can’t stop you.” Then the ape gave the two former agents a quick salute and turned his back to continue working on some project on his computer.

Hanzo and Jesse shared a look before silently leaving Winston’s office and not looking back. Jesse began walking to the main doors of the building, but Hanzo slowed behind him. Jesse looked and raised a brow at his partner.

“I have one thing left to do,” Hanzo said.

Jesse smiled and nodded. “I’ll be waitin’ here,” he said.

Hanzo left his luggage with Jesse and jogged to the medical bay of the Watchpoint, quickly locating Angela in her office. The doctor was sitting hunched over her laptop typing away on some document when Hanzo entered. When he slowly rapped his knuckles against her doorframe, she looked up and met his eyes.

After a moment, she offered him a small, sad smile. “Hello Hanzo.”

“Hello.”

“What can I do for you?”

Hanzo took a few steps further into the doctor’s office. She stood to meet him in the center of the small room. “I…” Hanzo began, suddenly feeling an odd pang of sorrow in his chest. “I wanted to thank you again before I left. For everything.”

Angela’s smile widened, but her eyebrows tilted upwards and her eyes appeared much wetter than they had moments before. “It was my pleasure,” she said.

Hanzo reached into his pocket and handed Angela a piece of paper with an address scrawled on it. “If you and my brother would ever like to find us, here is where we will be,” he said softly.

Angela nodded and she carefully set the paper on her desk. “I…I’m proud of you,” she whispered without meeting his gaze. Hanzo extended his arms, inviting the doctor in for an embrace, and Angela fell in close to him, wrapping her arms around his middle and squeezing tight.

“I wish you the best,” she whispered into his shoulder as they pulled away from one another. Hanzo smiled at her. He was sad yet excited, and he believed that Angela felt the same. It was odd, a departure full of mixed emotions, but more than anything, Hanzo was happy.

He gave the doctor one final nod. She had helped him through the worst of his emotions, and thinking back on it all, Hanzo noticed how much that he had truly grown. He had worked his way up from an incredibly dark place with Angela’s help, and for that, Hanzo was forever grateful. And now, it was time for him to move on to something new. He was in a better mindset, and he felt stronger. He would finally live his life in a way that he wanted.

Hanzo was in control, and he would not be alone. He would be free in a way that he had never been before.

Hanzo turned and walked out of Angela’s office and into the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then McCree goes and recruits Echo. That's my headcannon timeline :)
> 
> And btw hey I made a twitter [@McEuropeskies](https://twitter.com/McEuropeskies)  
> Come say hi if ya want!


	24. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After joining Overwatch, Hanzo reluctantly agrees to undergo a new form of therapy that involves the the therapist extracting and examining the patient’s most distressing memories. Long story short, Hanzo isn’t drunk enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the epilogue y'all! Excuse me while I cry over how much I've appreciated your support throughout this process. I've been going through a rough patch, so you have no idea how much it means to me. I hope you've enjoyed this story :,)
> 
> Warnings in this chapter: references to sexual content; a smaller trigger is included in the notes at the end because it is a spoiler -- feel free to check if you're at all worried!
> 
> <3 <3 <3

It had been a year since they left. They had bought a simple, two-story house with a hefty plot of land in Santa Fe– enough to raise a few chickens and keep their horses happy. Jesse named the rowdy Arabian “Ronin,” and so Hanzo had followed suit and named the affectionate yet trouble-making Clydesdale “Wrangler.” They were a few miles out from a large lake which they often visited, and some miles beyond that was the national park. When it was not too hot, Jesse and Hanzo would find a new hiking trail amongst the endless trees and see where it led them.

It took them many months to learn what it meant to settle down. They still felt that, around every bend, an enemy would be waiting for them, and they would have to fight once more. For a while, Jesse watched Hanzo practice his archery in their backyard, and the cowboy still felt his fingers itching to reach for his gun, to spend the evening at the Watchpoint training grounds.

But that was no longer their life.

Eventually, they found other ways to occupy their time. They took refuge in one another and in the nature around them. Jesse took to gardening, boxing off some of their land to grow tomatoes and peppers. In the middle of the week, the two of them would travel into town to sell their eggs and crops at the local farmer’s market. It was there that Jesse heard talk of how the local public schools were struggling, and so, with a portion of their wealth, they began the McCree-Shimada charity fund to provide schools with books and supplies.

Hanzo had learned how to fish, finding that it occupied his hands in a similar way to archery. He found that he had to be precise, aiming where to throw the line and calculating how best to reel in the fish. As time passed, Jesse noticed that Hanzo spent more time fishing than he did with his bow and arrows, and the thought that Hanzo had found an activity that he truly enjoyed made him smile. These days, it seemed like Hanzo’s dragons were out and about in their smaller forms almost constantly.

Half a year after their departure, Jesse splurged on a special birthday present for Hanzo: a pair of new prosthetic legs. They were made of a comfortable silicone material and matched Hanzo’s flesh unlike his original metallic legs. Hanzo gasped with delight when he found that the new legs had toes that he could wiggle, and he rarely removed them for long – not because he was embarrassed but because he loved them so much.

They made love endlessly, and Jesse found that he never got sick of it. He never got sick of Hanzo’s presence at all. Sure, they argued occasionally, but they always made up and were soon back to enjoying their peaceful existence. Jesse thought about marriage often, and he knew that Hanzo did too, but they were in no hurry. It was as if they were already married.

On the one-year anniversary of their departure, Jesse took his eggs and vegetables down to the farmer’s market in their truck while Hanzo stayed home to care for the animals. Jesse set up his stand from the back of his truck, arranging the peppers by color and making sure that the dozens of eggs remained uncracked in their cartons.

A few regular customers bought from him along with some new faces, tourists perhaps. By noon, he had made around twenty bucks in extra cash which he planned to spend on the goat cheese he had been eyeing at the booth across from him. As the crowd thinned, Jesse got ready to close up shop, but a familiar voice behind him made him freeze.

“Hello, stranger.”

Jesse whirled around to face Genji and Angela, hand-in-hand, looking over his array of food. For a moment, Jesse felt himself get lightheaded from the sheer shock at seeing his old friends here in Santa Fe. Then, he ran to them and pulled them both in for a bear hug.

The two of them laughed as Jesse squeezed. “Word around town was that a ‘Joel Morricone’ and his boyfriend frequented here,” Genji said. “Figured that was you.”

“What are you doing here?” Jesse asked with a toothy grin.

“We came to talk with you and Hanzo,” Angela said. Then, when she noticed Jesse’s dropping expression, she added, “It is nothing bad, I assure you.”

Jesse nodded and finished packing up his remaining foodstuffs into the back of his truck. “He’ll be happy to see the two’a ya,” Jesse chuckled. “Only got one other seat. Someone’s gonna have to sit in the back.”

Genji quickly volunteered and helped Angela into the front seat before climbing into the bed of the truck and knocking on the window. Jesse turned to face Genji and slid open the back window with a smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” Genji said. “Just missed you.”

It was a quick ride back to the house, and Angela and Genji seemed very giddy. Jesse caught the two sharing glances and grinning every so often. After a few minutes, Jesse pulled into their garage; he grabbed the leftover eggs to put in the refrigerator and led his guests inside.

“Babydoll,” Jesse called as he kicked off his shoes, “I got a surprise. Come out to the livin’ room.”

“ _I_ got a surprise for _you,_ too!” Hanzo called back from somewhere in the house. “Come to the bedroom.”

Behind him, Genji snorted and Angela held in a cackle. “Baby, we have guests!” Jesse said, shaking his head.

They heard a few frantic bangs and bumps before a disheveled Hanzo ran into the living room, his face as red as Jesse’s tomatoes. When Hanzo finally saw Angela and Genji, his mouth fell agape.

“Hey brother,” Genji said, still trying not to burst out into laughter.

Hanzo ran over and pulled the two into a hug, similar to Jesse. They laughed and hugged back while Hanzo collected his thoughts. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked. “We have lemonade.”

“Lemonade sounds great,” Angela answered for the both of them.

As Hanzo nodded and ran off to the kitchen, Jesse and their guests sat on the large sectional couch near a large window that let sufficient light into the room. Hanzo soon returned awkwardly balancing four glasses of lemonade in his arms, and he carefully handed one drink to each of them.

“So,” Genji began after politely taking a sip of the beverage, “We have news.”

Angela nodded and took a breath. Jesse watched Hanzo’s eyes widen and meet his own, prepared for something negatively life-altering, Jesse supposed. He clutched his boyfriend’s hand and offered a comforting smile.

“Y’all ready to be uncles?” Genji suddenly asked.

It took a moment for the question’s meaning to hit Jesse, but, when it did, he fell back into Hanzo’s lap with a shout. “Nuh-uh! No way!”

“Yes way,” Angela said.

“For real?” Hanzo asked with one of the biggest grins Jesse had ever seen him wear.

“Yup,” Genji said and rubbed Angela’s stomach. “There’s a little mini us on the way.”

“Holy shit!!!” Jesse yelled and thrashed around in Hanzo’s lap.

Once the excitement died down ever so slightly, Angela and Genji shared another look. “Well,” Angela said, “It did come as a shock to us as well. I did not think my chances of getting pregnant were high, taking into account my age, but it is news we have embraced. And we seemed to have found a doctor in the area who specializes in pregnancies of this sort, so…”

“Ang wanted to be her own doctor,” Genji added with a giggle.

Angela shot a playful glare at him before continuing. “And once I figured that that would not be efficient, we coincidentally found this doctor in New Mexico. The address you left us did influence our decision, and we wanted to know how you would feel about Genji and I moving nearby.”

Hanzo and Jesse stared at their guests in shocked silence for a moment. “Move here?” Jesse asked.

“So you’ve left Overwatch?” added Hanzo.

Genji nodded. “We left. It was a hard decision, but we figured that it was for the best. We will certainly visit, but our top priority now is little Genji.”

“You _have_ to stop calling our baby ‘little Genji,’” Angela sighed and then looked at Jesse and Hanzo expectantly.

Jesse had never had to make such an easy decision in his life, and from Hanzo’s frantic nodding he could tell that his boyfriend thought the same. Having Genji, Angela, and their child close to them would be nothing but a blessing.

“We would be honored to have you here,” Hanzo said.

Genji smiled at him, and then Jesse witnessed something that he never had before. As Hanzo’s twin blue dragons jumped from his skin, Genji’s single green dragon flew out to meet them. The three spirit beings chased each other across the hardwood floor, occasionally tackling and biting playfully. Jesse watched in amazement.

“I’ll take that as excitement,” Angela said, squeezing Hanzo’s shoulder.

Hanzo nodded, and then his eyes suddenly went wide. “Wait. How many months along are you? When are you due? Have you had a baby shower? Should we child-proof our house? How are you going—"

“Hanzo!” Genji interrupted with a laugh. “Calm down. It’ll be okay. Nobody needs to worry.”

Hanzo took a deep breath. “Are you sure that we will be good uncles? What will you tell him about…you…about us?”

Jesse rubbed Hanzo’s back as Genji thought. “Well…” the younger Shimada began, “I figured that, when they were ready, I would tell them about our family and the violence that they encouraged. But Angela and I are dedicated to raising our child with the belief that said violence should end with us.”

“I…” Hanzo nodded once more. “I agree.”

After many hours spent talking about how they spent their lives during that past year, Hanzo and Jesse finally found a reason to put their guest bedroom to use. They made the bed, and Jesse drove Angela and Genji to their hotel so they could retrieve their luggage and check out. Then, Jesse and Hanzo got their guests set up for the night.

When Jesse and Hanzo finally retired to their bed and cuddled up next to each other, they shared a giddy smile. “Well, this was unexpected,” Hanzo said.

Jesse smiled and gave him a quick kiss. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like…this may be permanent,” Hanzo said, and when Jesse raised an eyebrow he continued. “When we first came here, I felt like this happiness wouldn’t last. I was waiting for something bad to inevitably happen as it always had, but things only kept getting better. Then when Angela and my brother said they had news, I figured _this is it; something’s happened. Overwatch_ _is going to demand we come back_ or something of the sort, but then…this. It all seemed like a dream, Jesse, but now I think I am finally realizing that this is close to permanent. This time, perhaps things will stay this way.”

Jesse knew the feeling. That, at any moment, their whole world could come crashing down around them, but, since leaving Overwatch, the chances of that were significantly lower. They had far less to worry about, and the peacefulness was finally taking root. And now, they had Angela and Genji to share that peace with. Everything had fallen into place.

With a smirk, Jesse pulled Hanzo on top of him, and Hanzo let out a yelp. Jesse hugged him close and planted a wet kiss on his jaw. “Everything’ll stay like this for you, baby, if I could help it,” he said.

They shared another kiss, and then Jesse leaned in closer to Hanzo’s ear. “Now earlier you were talkin’ about havin’ a surprise for me. Still wanna show me what that is?”

Hanzo laughed and softly hit Jesse on the shoulder. “Of course you remember that.” Jesse winked, and Hanzo cupped his face to pull him into a deep and passionate kiss.

Everything was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: pregnancy 
> 
> And hey I made a twitter [@McEuropeskies](https://twitter.com/McEuropeskies)  
> Come say hi if ya want!


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